


Abandoned by Heaven

by Royswordsman (RoySwordsman)



Category: Avengers (Comics), Captain America (Comics), Iron Man (Comic), Marvel 616
Genre: Cap-Iron Man Big Bang 2014, M/M, Marvel Zombies, Zombie Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 08:31:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 32,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2686139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoySwordsman/pseuds/Royswordsman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is injected with a deadly virus that lands him straight into quarantine. However, the virus does more than any of the others could have thought— It kills him, rebuilds him, and turned him into the walking dead. Tony tries desperately to prevent it and cure Steve, but is left with coping with his dearest friend turning into a zombie. This takes its toll on Tony in more ways than one, as Tony has to watch his friend slowly display symptoms of the undead. Doing all he can to save him while, Tony is forced to watch the heart-breaking transformation take place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. -4 hours

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to Actualpanda on tumblr for betaing for me and doing such a great job and again a huge thanks to my wonderful artist nerisel on tumblr too for being such a great sport and sending me some fantastic pieces!

Tony Stark would pride himself on precision and accuracy even in the barren deserts of southern Nevada at the heart of the Mojave, nearing the infamous Death Valley which coincided with the location that was flashing up on his HUD. Bright vermilion hooplets on the intricate GPS mapping system would show him the whereabouts of the Captain that he was searching for. Luckily there were numerous tracking devices in Steve’s costume (some unbeknownst to the soldier himself) but every single installation was for Steve’s own protection and proved more than handy in situations such as a kidnapping. Tony would sometimes internally thank his own genius for prompting him to bypass minor verbal contracts agreed upon, but when it came down to the line it was all for the greater good. How else would the Captain agree to have multiple tracking devices embedded throughout his costume, some devices as small as a sewing needle or thumb tack? Freedom is what he had preached for so long and for Tony to be watching his every move was invasive to say the least. It wasn’t as if Tony watched every one of Steve’s moves (he was just curious _sometimes_ ) but more often it was used for situations where they were both at risk such as the current one.

“Death Valley, it had to be a location named so ominously.” He lamented to his computer systems as his black and golden armour shimmered in the scorching beams of sunlight that parried off the metallic surface, casting offshoots of light even as he flew with such rapidity that not even a grain of sand beneath him was shaken.

Tony’s dark blue sapphire orbs fixated on the temperature gauge rapidly soaring higher and higher until they reached 50 degrees Celsius. Even with his cooling systems in tact as well as the velocity he was flying at he could still feel minor wisps of heat breach the occasional spot of reveal. This wasn’t his space suit, it wasn’t built for temperatures beyond that of the normal Earth atmosphere, but luckily the wind that was created whilst flying helped cool down the metal; praise physics.

He had to scour each dune with exceptional detail in an attempt to find what he was looking for which after an hour of searching, he’d managed to find hidden as expected. Nothing was out of the ordinary unless they were dealing with Doom. Tony rolled his eyes; Doom chose to stamp his name on everything with his rather garish, yet medieval, choice of décor expressing itself in whatever structure he would build. That included his hideouts, which made them obvious to find. This, on the other hand, was like a searching for a needle in a haystack. All Tony knew was that it was Zola who had his hands on Steve after intercepting him on the soldier’s return back to base.

Tony’s systems locked on to the large circle of metal that it detected and he pointed his boosters downward, holding out his hands to land perfectly on the dimming lights under his feet until they completely faded. This caused the sand beneath him to partially subside with the flusters of air that projected from the landing style. The winds also helped reveal something that was otherwise hidden by the sand, and eventually it all became crystal clear – there it was, a giant silver disk that was his door to finding his friend.

“Oh come _on_ , who would put a manhole in the desert?” Tony groaned, crouching down to remove the plate. Lo and behold, this also unlocked a passage to the undercover lab that Steve had likely been held in. Without a second of thought he jumped into it, sliding down the chute and resisting the urge to shout ‘weeeeeeeee’, after all, that would defeat the point of a surprise attack. The situation was serious but that didn’t prevent him from having a little fun with it all at Zola’s expense.

***

Steve was chained up to the wall. His head hung, and his uniform was torn and tattered after his capture. It took more than just strength to capture Cap, it involved courage and a well-conceived plan. He didn’t put either past Zola – quite frankly, he _couldn’t_ , as Zola was one of his most worthy adversaries. He had been gone for hours and in that time was poked and prodded by a number of needles.

“I thought you would be content with the invention of your own dimension… Trying to bring those things here… We’ve taken them down once…” Steve continued to splutter after hours of shouting the same thing, so much so that his voice rang with a hoarse undertone.

“That was a long time ago. Unfortunately…it was unsustainable.” Zola paced his lab in one of the newer models of his body. He remembered events extremely well, including the invention of his ‘son’ using Steve’s blood to create a child with super soldier abilities. That was soon used against him, and brought upon him his own downfall. There was a victorious spring in his step as his absurdly large eyes from the projection screen in his modified body’s chest darted from test tube to test tube. “There are much more… _efficient_ ways of bringing down mankind with my creations, Steve Rogers.”

Steve snarled and tugged at the chains until they made a loud rattle. He wasn’t strong enough to outright break the chains from the wall he was tethered to. Every ounce of strength was drained from him after the countless lumbar injections that were being stabbed into him from the wall that was just behind him. Given Zola, that wasn’t just a simple wall – it contained large amounts of sedatives that were being injected directly into his spinal cord…and thus rendering him largely incapable of fighting back.

Zola had gotten much smarter since their last encounter and even more merciless. The last time they’d met in his own dimension, Zola had managed to surgically plant himself into Steve’s body, using a large gaping hole in his chest – but that, as Zola had said, was long ago.

“Always taking the easy way out.” Steve snarled in return, grimacing at the feeling of the fluid being pumped through his spine once again as it had been periodically.

Zola let out a mechanical sounding laugh. “This was far from easy… To engineer a virus that is even capable of taking you down. You and your team have gotten in my way far too often…” Zola’s hands reached for another chemical, pouring it into a small container of blue liquid which instantly flowered into a vivid fluorescent purple.

Steve coughed as his vision became blurry yet again, but his body was still desperately trying to fight against the sedation, opening his bloodshot eyes to glare at the evil genius in front of him. “You’re not taking me down with a virus, or with another clone.”

“You underestimate my capabilities. If one of my plans is foiled, Captain, I will _always_ find an alternative that supersedes the one prior.”

Steve breathed heavily and continued to pull at the chains. Zola’s words were becoming hazy as more chemicals were pumped through his system. His head began to hang before he snapped out of it, and he tried to look up, only to sink once more. For a moment, he could’ve sworn he noticed a flash of gold, though that could’ve just been wishful thinking on his part. The amount of times Tony had saved him and he had saved Tony, it had only become natural to develop an unintentional co-dependency on his partner to an extent where he would hope with all of his heart that he would be the one breaking through the doors at that very moment.

His mind wondered and his eyes shut as he fell into a deep sleep dreaming of his rescue. In truth, Steve _hated_ being in situations of helplessness. What he did like was the glowing pride he would feel the moment one of his friends had come to help him, especially if it were Tony. Years of that unspoken connection and years of that bond between them had just earned Tony a special place in his heart…perhaps it could be considered that Steve placed him on a pedestal, even after the war between them. He knew it was all worth it in the end, because no one could take the place Tony had in his heart.

His sleep was broken by a loud noise. The second he looked up, he spotted a few of Zola’s monsters attacking a golden and black metallic figure that he could barely make out given how dark the lab already was, but it was the light rose shimmer from the centre of the figures chest that confirmed that it was indeed Tony who had come to his rescue yet again.

“You’re late…” Steve murmurs in a groggy tone.

“Sorry Cap, had to catch some rays.” Tony replies. By this point, Tony is already starting to fire his smart mini-missiles that jut out from a register just over his shoulder, unfolding neatly from their compact hideout after his systems have already locked onto Zola, though fighting the ‘man’ isn’t that easy with the hoard of monstrosities that surge toward Tony out of the tubes that once contained them. Dark demonic creatures that haven’t even got properly formed limbs throw themselves at Tony, trying to take him down while Zola rushes over to the computers.

Steve smiles to Tony’s retort but feels the wall he’s chained to start to vibrate. “Tony..!” He let out a cry of warning.

“I’m on it Cap! Just let me handle these—“ He threw a solid punch at one of the things, “—ugly bastards first.”

“Watch that potty mouth…” Steve wanted to sound more stern but the more he was speaking the more helpless he sounded, and he hated that, internally blaming the dip in his tone on the sedatives that were being flushed through his entire body.

The pang of metal was all Steve could hear for a while, it were as though he could feel himself slipping again but was quickly jolted back to full awareness the moment that Tony threw one of the creatures to the wall with immense strength, making a loud crash as it swooped through some of the equipment that was set up. It was as though Tony had to fight his way through all of these deformed creatures to try and get to Zola who was busy running from machine to machine to trigger chemical releases.

“One quick fire this ought to do it.” Tony mumbled quickly, powering up his reactor before sliding his shoulders back, sticking out his chest and firing a unibeam straight from the bright light in his chest, shooting it straight through the monsters that hurled themselves his way.

Steve tugged and tugged at the restraints trying to at least bend them, but they weren’t bending, they weren’t even cracking. After years of attempting to capture Steve the evil genius clearly knew how exactly to contain him.

Tony decided he’d need to push forward before more of these things came at him since he’d cleared a path but didn’t know how long exactly that would last, so he raised his legs off the ground, placing pull power in his thrusters and just used himself as a human battering ram. “Thank you Juggernaut!” He yelled as he pushed through the oncoming hoard and right to Zola.

Zola’s eyes darted from screen to screen before he smacked one of the biggest buttons on the control panel and the plate that Steve was on began to shake and light up behind him. Tony was gaining far too much momentum, too much to turn around before he thwarted himself into Zola who had just managed to push the button as he was knocked back.


	2. -2 hours

Zola crashed to the ground with Tony on top of him, before he could escape from his body Tony was quickly trying to use Extremis to access any sort of system override so he could try and prevent him from doing so, a firewall of sorts, anything to make sure he didn’t escape that easily. Frankly, he’d had enough of dealing with the same lowlifes that were plaguing him and his friends and having Steve taken from him struck a chord in more ways than one. Steve was something special to Tony and always had been, despite their arguments and fallouts which only in the end fortified their bond, meaning that Steve would always have a place with him, and Tony would be extremely offended if anyone so much as touched a hair on the super-soldiers head.

Steve tried to turn his head to catch a glimpse of what was happening behind him but two large claws shot out from the wall and grabbed his chin and forehead, dragging him as far back into the wall as he could, a loud metal clank echoed when his cranium was brought forcefully against the glowing segment of the wall.

“Tony!” His cry turned into a gurgle as the instruments held him down.

“Just a sec, Cap!” Tony shouted back, blissfully unaware of what was happening behind him.

“Tony— “

“Steve, just one— “ He frantically went through the files mindful of Zola’s ability to escape and how he was attempting to that very second. The clatter of metal and sounds was distracting, as were the creatures that he was sure were looming up behind him and obscuring his view of Steve. Tony raised his legs using the flames from his boots to scorch the beasts that tried to claw and clamber over him while he rooted through Zola’s systems frantically attempting to confine him.

“T— “ Steve’s blue orbs shot wide open and his voice held that note.

That was when Tony’s internal alarm bells began to ring and he’d managed to speed up the process. The most important part of it all was that he had to clear his mind and focus, just as Steve had taught him in their sparring lessons back when Steve didn’t even know that he and Iron Man were the same person, the blissful old days where ironically things were much simpler, even if it meant being two separate people. The catch of Steve’s word made him spin around once he was done with Zola and he flew toward Steve, kicking and repulsoring any other creatures that decide to obstruct him. It was like a video game and he was finally getting the hang of the controls and knowing exactly where these things would spawn from, luckily though there wasn’t an unlimited number of them, so after he managed to finish the final few that hurled themselves in front of him he landed just in front of Steve.

With relief he stepped to the grips that held Steve in place and began to knock them away from Steve’s face. “Come on Cap… Let’s get you out of here…” He paused before he finished. He freezes, his eyes being the only movement, panning to the needle that was injected to the top of Steve’s spine. Suddenly panic ensues.

“Jarvis, get into the systems. Give me vitals.”

Hacking was the easy part, even with sophisticated tech such as Zola’s. Apparently the hardest part was getting through his firewall, which he had done with much difficulty before, so repeating the process mere seconds later was a synch.

Caps head was hung, his mop of blond hair shadowing his eyes, body slumped forward and only held by the restraints that kept him pinned to the glowing mass behind him. Blood trickled over those delicate heart shaped lips that Tony had once pressed his own to.

Tony felt his lip quiver. It only helped to reassure himself that Cap was a relentless soul that refused to die, so he couldn’t have been beaten this easily, could he? Only statistics could confirm.

The seconds felt like hours for that one moment. Finally the vitals flashed up in bright cyan, some with red accents to confirm.

There was no heartbeat.

No signs of life.

The injection contained some cocktail of chemicals that had been directly injected into Steve’s blood stream and had stopped his organs from functioning and thus had managed to stop the serum from being pumped through his veins causing an instantaneous death. Zola must have harvested enough data on the serum back in Dimension  Z to learn more about the serum, so much so that he had learned how to stop it from flowing, he had learned with that concoction to disable it.

There was much more that needed to be done but at that moment Tony couldn’t bring himself to. Steve had been calling out for help, he knew that he was in danger and Tony just ignored it, he said he would be there to help but in the end he just wasn’t quick enough. Rapid shots of holding Rumiko in his arms flashed through his mind before he became entirely numb. Then he became angry, livid in fact, fuming, succumbing to his rage he bolted over toward Zola and began pounding at the machine that he was trapped within.

“Tell me what you did! You tell me right now!” He screamed. He was no geneticist, but if he could find some way to reverse it – but there was no way he could bring the dead back to life.

Tony Stark was in immediate denial.

Another loud clang and then a clawed scaly monster grabbed his arm. Tony, fuelled by rage, spun around and shot out a cross of repulsors, cutting any of the remaining standing creatures with clean lines. Unintentionally some equipment was caught in the crossfire but at this point Tony could care less, it was a moment of distraction from Zola before he turned his head back to him and grabbed the vessel he was now trapped in. “Tell me what you did!”

Zola laughed again. “You couldn’t comprehend.”

“Try me!” Tony spat, his face plate folding up so he could stare eye to eye with the man who had killed Steve Rogers.

“Why waste my time?” The automated voice responded.

“You have no idea who you’re talking to... Now tell me. Tell me!” Tony’s voice raised an octave every time he yelled, sneering.

Zola was taking great enjoyment in Tony’s pain, replying with distorted laughs through his systems speakers, receiving hit after hit from Tony’s metal gauntlet until there were spider-web cracks all over the screen.

“He was a test subject.”

“For what?!”

“Tests, Iron Man…”

“For what!?” Tony repeated.

“What do you think I do, Tony Stark? I am a genius, I am a man that invents superior beings and pushes them to achieve their full potential. Steve Rogers was one of those men that had become the pinnacle of the human race, but none of you truly utilized him – why not make him better? He has much potential, and under my control he would have been the greatest asset.”

Tony growled under his breath at the shoddy explanation which still revealed little to nothing. “What chemicals did you use?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets.” The laugh echoed louder. 

“Didn’t you get the memo?” Tony pinned Zola down tighter, his fingers like vices, closing in on Zola’s arms and crushing them. “I hate magic.” He could hear the fizzle of circuits and felt the way that the villain that he was pinning down was slowly becoming immobilised. As much as he wanted to finish him there and then, he knew if he did so he would encounter numerous problems when he’d returned home. He had to keep in mind Cap’s teaching; killing should never be an option. Even though technically it wasn’t killing Zola, it was deleting him and emptying the recycle bin so he would never return to plague them. 

Then there was a loud sound from behind him.


	3. 00 hours, 00 minutes, 1 second

Tony’s attention was one again stolen from Zola. His eyes rolled as he expected it to be another creature of Zola’s trying to rattle the cage, but when he performed a quick visual sweep of the room he spotted something that made him jump to his feet right away.

The plank that Steve was chained to now rattled with tremendous force, as Steve’s entire body was wracked by horrific spasms, almost as though he were having a seizure. The only thing that kept his head from hitting the wall was the giant syringe that was planted firmly to the top of his spine; whenever his head jolted back, it’d hit the large tube and he would fall forward again. His arms and legs squirmed and writhed as though he were yearning to break free, his eyes opened wide and rolled back so only the whites of his eyes were visible. To Tony Stark, this was possibly the most terrifying thing he’d ever seen in his life, and he had seen some _awful_ things happen to his friends in the past. Steve’s limbs were flailing, moving as though they had no bone in them; the muscles were loose and lax. His body quite obviously was swept up by a huge spasm which Tony had never seen post-death.

Black ooze dripped from the area that the syringe was still plunged into, and Tony took a few steps closer in disbelief. Maybe it was a reaction that Steve’s body was having to the chemicals after death, he reasoned hastily. A few more tentative steps with his heavy titanium-clad boots, ignoring Zola’s laughing in the distance. Every sound in that moment was tuned out…the only thing Tony heard was Steve’s body rattling the chains. Then he could hear something else; he could hear a gurgle of a voice deep down, coming from Steve’s throat.

Tony’s widened eyes focused on the man before him, getting closer and closer until he stopped inches from him. “Steve..?” He asked, with a meek tone tinged with hope. Though he should have known from his countless experiences that sometimes hope was the hardest and most devastating feeling to succumb to…

Steve’s body became motionless after Tony spoken, his head hung again, but his body maintaining a slight tremble. Then he lay very still…completely still after another moment. Tony could feel his heart begin to sink once more, just wishing that he’d had a second chance. But just as he was about to become resigned to the thought, he spotted Steve’s eyelashes fluttering.

“Steve..?” Tony repeated again, this time with a little more added conviction. Steve lifted his head, his eyes returning to normal. His pupils constricted, but as they began to adjust to the light, they dilated again. Tony’s mouth hung open and he let out a shaky gasp, reaching out for him as though he were trying to make sure that this wasn’t just a nightmare.

Steve’s vision focused after moments of his world being reduced to a hazy blur, and he made out Tony against that blur. Just as Tony was about to touch him Steve shook his head and coughed out, vomiting out a large black spew of liquid that trickled down his chin, colouring his bottom lip grey.

Tony cringed and then rushed up to Steve as quickly as he could, wiping the mess away with his smooth metal fingers. “Cap? Steve?”

“Tony…” He whispered in a hoarse voice.

“You’re alive…” He repeated. “You’re alive… And well, and… You were dead.” It was difficult at that point to choke down the emotion. He had been on an emotional roller-coaster, but all that mattered now was that Steve was alive. He could ask questions later and even though he wanted to surge forward and press his lips against Steve’s, that goop on his lips was rather off-putting. His fingers moved to cup his jaw, raising his head to look him properly in the eyes again. “I’ll get you out Cap, Zola’s been disabled. We’ll get you home…”

Steve tugged weakly at the chains around him. “Zola..?”

Tony turned his head over to look at the fallen bot that encased Zola, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. “I can carry his main CPU back home for the others to deal with. To be honest I just want to slam him into the negative zone.”

Steve groaned a little in response. Tony realised then that he needed to cut the man down from his plank. Using his pinpoint lasers, he quickly seared through the chains and caught Steve in his arms, making sure his feet were free from the shackles too. He lifted Steve into his arms.

“You have a big breakfast there, tough guy?”

Steve let out a huff that was supposed to resemble a chuckle before weakly gesturing over to Zola.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I wasn’t going to let him go scot-free for what he did to you.” He replied coolly. In fact, he was on the brink of destroying Zola completely had Steve not woken up in time, which truly showed he needed Steve, he needed someone to balance him. It hadn’t had time to settle in that Steve’s vitals had flat-lined, but it must’ve been a glitch in his system if Steve was alive at that very moment. Tony strode toward Zola and turned him around, routing through his systems until he found the CPU chip and yanked it out forcefully, if it was damaged he could just say it was an accident. Once he’d placed the chip in a hatch in his suit, he knew that Zola’s body would be completely unable to move so he made a note in his own systems to ensure that the body was collected and put under high security lock down. Something in the back of his mind told him that Zola had his mind backed up in numerous places, after all, with the rise of the internet his mind was capable of going anywhere it wanted and storing in a number of different devices, which was a shame especially since Tony just wanted him _gone_ after that entire fiasco. His heart was still drumming, even as he held Steve over his shoulder, switching once both of his hands were free to carry him bridal style. Steve looped his arms around Tony’s neck for security, watching as the golden faceplate slipped over once more and Tony made his way out the same way he had come in, this time with his friend resting there in his arms.

Tony burst out into the hot rays with his thrusters leaving blue streaks in the air behind him. The sun brought a little more colour to Steve’s face, much to his relief. He had never clutched onto anything so preciously, holding Steve throughout their journey back to base as if he were a porcelain doll. “We’ll get you home…” He repeated aloud as though it were a mantra as the setting sun cast blood orange glow in the sky that they soared through together.


	4. 4hrs, 40 minutes, 37 seconds

After arriving in record time (as per usual) back to the mansion in NYC, Steve was taken to the medical bay for a routine check-up. He seemed completely fine, considering the horrors Zola had put him through in that lab... He stood up well, he had regained his strength after having the time to rest in Tony’s arms, and he was all cleaned up almost the moment they had touched down at HQ. Routine checks were always tedious, especially for Steve, who knew that he would heal one way or another thanks to the serum that was flowing through his veins. In truth, he hated being treated after the amount of time he had spent in hospitals as a child due to his numerous ailments. Although his mother was a nurse (which brought an element of comfort to whatever procedures were necessary after being surrounded by medical knowledge even at home) he resented the fact he was so sick as a child because he knew of the toll that it had taken on his parents and their relationship. Hospitals were never cheap, nor was medicine in a day where even bread was considered a luxury. The Great Depression was one of the hardest times to grow up in, and even more so for a family that were struggling with a perennially sick child. That resentment of those days had carried through to this era, and though it may not have been as relevant in this day and age, the memories continued to linger. After all, perhaps if he could have afforded it, he could’ve helped save his own sick mother by giving her the care she needed. He was grateful for the healthcare now, and adored the science and innovation behind it all particularly with the results that were being produced with Stark’s move into healthcare and the massively improved quality of it all in recent days, but he hated being the one sitting in the hospital bed getting poked and prodded by needles. The amount of times that Steve had been captured and thrown on medical tables to have samples extracted so he could be cloned or the serum could be replicated was countless. Whenever he would walk into a room as cold and sterile as the medical bay was it would send shivers up his spine, so he would try and rush the process by complying.

When he had stepped into the full body scanner that Tony had built, the large metallic walls encasing the moment that he had entered the machine that was built mainly for Steve knowing how much he had hated hospitals. Stark Resilient was specialising in medical technology and Steve’s dislike of hospitals just provided Tony with the incentive to build a quick-scan device to make the process as easy and as painless as possible. Not to mention that Tony used Steve’s criticism for his own projects quite often. Contrary to popular belief the super soldier had a huge influence on Tony’s work, verbal or otherwise. Steve inhaled deeply, shutting his eyes and letting the machine do its job. The tension in his chest boiled while Tony peered up at the screen, letting some of his helper bots wrap his arms up in clean bandages whenever he was hurt. By this point he had gotten rather used to the pain, so a couple of scrapes here and there weren’t too bad.

“You handling the clean up?” Tony asked over the computer speakers.

“Yeah. Cleaning up.” A short and curt voice replied from the other end.

“Oh come on Marc, sound a little more cheerful about it, will you?”

“Not here for your dirty work.”

Tony pursed his lips and sighed. “Well, hopefully you’ll find whatever it is you’re looking for in the desert.”

“Yep.”

“Uh… Good luck.” Tony cut the signal and shook his head. “There are some people you can _never_ win over.”

“He _is_ a man of few words, Tony.” Steve replied from the other end of the screening device.

“I’ve heard Black Bolt speak more than I’ve heard _that_ guy.”

Steve laughed a little. “How much longer is this going to take?” He asked, opening his eyes from time to time to stare at the surface of the machine he was enclosed in, the black screen with the red light moving up and down with a loud hum.

“Not too long.” Tony yawned. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better than ever to be honest, I feel rejuvenated.”

“Gave me quite a scare you know.”

“…I know, I’m sorry.”

Tony felt his chest tighten at the words and slipped off the work chair he was settled on, standing in front of the screen just the other side. “I should’ve recorded you saying that for future reference. Cap actually knows how to say ‘sorry’.”

“Don’t get too used to it.” Steve cautioned “Just this once. You know I have one or two exceptions, I’m not heartless.”

Tony flashed a slanted smirk even though Steve couldn’t see him, “Heartless isn’t the word, stubborn is much more appropriate…maybe even headstrong, if I’m trying to hit the nail on the head.”

“Is the pot calling the kettle black?” Steve flashed exactly the same smirk behind the screen, unknowingly mirroring Tony.

“Might be.” He chuckled in turn, turning his head to the screens that flashed up no vitals for Steve, none whatsoever. Tony scratched the shorter shaven part of his hair just above his neck with confusion. “Computers are glitching…” He mumbled to himself, stepping closer and investigating but nothing was showing up. “I’ll need to do some maintenance on these.”

“Nothing’s wrong, is there?” Steve queried.

“No, I think the system’s not working as it should. It’s okay, you’re fine.” Tony gave the monitors one last suspicious glance before making his way toward the scanner and letting Steve out. Steve didn’t waste a moment before draping one arm around Tony’s shoulders. It just took that one touch to take Tony’s mind away from the machine and he slid his own arm comfortably around Steve’s waist as they found themselves walking down the hallway. “You’ve never looked better. I’m sure I don’t need a couple of tests to reassure me of that.”

Steve beamed. “That’s right. So what, breakfast tomorrow, then a little sparring?”

“Count me in, so long as it’s bagels, Brooklyn boy.” Tony flashed a toothy grin at Steve, trying to not unintentionally lean into him, or rather fighting the urge not to…even though when he had done so in the past, Steve didn’t say a word.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” They took a few more steps together until they reached Steve’s bedroom door. Tony knew he’d have to part ways with the man, groaning at the thought of leaving the comforting warmth and departing from the firm yet secure grip as well as the Captain’s distinct smell of (oh so American) apple pie with a hint of cinnamon and the bitter faint after-smell of gunpowder.

This moment would always take longer than others, it was the part where they retired to their bedrooms for the night. Tony would try and ensure that the moment lasted longer than it should and it was obvious that Steve would do exactly the same, spending a long while leaning on the large wooden doorframe talking about their missions or trying to figure out what to watch for the next Avengers movie night, anything, any banter to make sure that those last few moments would be spent together.

Steve retracted his arm from around Tony and gestured to his room. “I should get going.”

“Right. Yeah, you must be exhausted.”

“You better get some shuteye too, Tony, I don’t want you slacking in training tomorrow.” He winked.

“I won’t slack, just give me a cup of coffee in the morning and I’ll be completely fine.” Tony gestured casually, giving Steve’s chest a little tap. “You take care, Cap. Don’t get kidnaped while I’m asleep.”

Steve snorted. “Same goes for you. Night, Tony.” They locked eyes for a second and then there was silence while Tony returned a smile just as warm as the stare he was receiving, a stare that could make even his cheeks twinge with a hue of pink. 

“Night, Steve.” He finally plucks up the courage to reply, waving as he turned to his own room which was conveniently next door.

Steve reluctantly walked through his own door, and carefully shut it once inside. Then he slumped on his bed face first and shut his eyes. His fingertips trailed along the pillow next to him. It wasn’t nearly as soft as Tony’s skin was, but it was all he had to simulate that sense.

…

Hours passed…Steve tried to sleep, but his insomnia prevented him from doing so. He decided to head down to the empty kitchen for a snack, only to spot Peter Parker swooping in for a midnight snack which consisted of fruit loops, as usual. Steve decided to follow his lead and made himself a midnight snack of the biggest bologna sandwich he could make, devouring it in around five minutes before returning to bed, hearing the faint echo of “You should be a professional eater,” from Peter in the distance, to which he snorted and returned to his bedroom.

A couple more hours passed until Steve had heard a knock on his door, turning his head to it. There was only one person that would come into his room this late at night, and low and behold when the door opened it was Tony – standing there in a long, oversized Stark Resilient t-shirt and boxers, rubbing his eyes. Without a single word, Steve scooted over in his bed. Tony shut the door behind him and slipped under the warm cotton sheets…always so pristine, despite being so old.

This had become his routine; whenever either of them had a nightmare that they simply couldn’t put behind them, they would venture into each other’s rooms provided they didn’t have company and rest assured that they would be safe next to one another. It was a mutual understanding, a bond that they had both shared, even just as friends…though that additional comfort was undeniably something more. Once more, it became apparent to Tony that Steve was his support system. After that entire…episode back in the searing heat of Death Valley, Tony was filled with constant nightmares of Steve being taken away from him yet again in the worst ways possible. He was grateful that he didn’t have to explain that aloud to Steve.

Tony was soothed by the usual sounds of Steve’s breath, the slump of his chest and sometimes if he had continently rolled to close to him; the beating of his heart, the gentle drum that would remind him that the man was there watching over him.

He turned to look over at Steve sleeping, eyes tracing over that delicate silhouette, along the sharp features of his face and admiring how the light from the outside window perfectly hit his jaw to highlight how wonderfully chiselled it really was.  The rattle of the blinds against the window made him jump a little, but he resumed his awestruck vision until he reached Steve’s chest.

It wasn’t moving.

He squinted a little blaming it on his tired hazy vision but as he crept closer he noticed that he wasn’t breathing at all. Slowly but surely he placed his hand just under Steve’s nose only for Steve to open his eyes and bat at Tony’s hand.

“What are you doing?” He asked in a groggy tone.

“N-nothing, just checking… You—it looked like you stopped—never mind. Nightmares.” He muttered incoherently, curling up against the pillow and pressing his nose to it instead. Paranoia was surely getting the better of him, so burying his face against Steve’s pillow to inhale that fragrant scent that he adored was enough to pacify him.

Steve stared at him for a moment before returning back to his position, trying to sleep as best as he could.


	5. 2 days, 8 hours, 34 minutes, 29 seconds.

Reed Richards had come down to work on a project alongside Tony in the medical wing of the mansion. He was already busy trying to fix a few bits and pieces, or rather, he needed Tony’s expertise on machinery. The new schematics he had in mind to help fortify the Earth’s security against impending invasions needed a sounding board, and there were few minds better than Tony Stark’s for such things. Reed needed to find ways to prevent events like the ones that had previously stricken the planet. Reed was mainly targeting Skrulls with this device, but had to keep in mind that some of their allies were also Skrulls. Well, that and he wanted to find an excuse to build something strong enough that could potentially keep Galactus away, though he knew that was a long shot.

“You don’t mind if I borrow your medi-scanner do you? I’m in extreme need of preventing my hypochondriac of a wife from taking our children to the hospital whenever they get so much as a cough.” Reed spoke, though exaggerating in this case to a large degree.

“You’re a doctor, and she’s extremely smart! I’m sure you don’t need a doctor to tell you if your child is sick.”

“Apparently it’s ironically unhealthy for parents to diagnose their own children.”

“But you know them better than anyone else does?”

“My point exactly. Sue has her methods of dealing with things. It would just be reassurance if we had a second opinion. Your scanners should be able to do just that.”

Tony glanced up from a circuit board he was working on, lifting his large golden framed goggles to perch on top of his head, “There’s a small glitch, Reed…it doesn’t seem to be working properly on some people.”

Reed tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“Well, for some reason, it wouldn’t work on Steve. It appears to work fine on others though; Luke tested it out for me when he’d popped over.”

“ _Just_ on Steve…?” Reed stretched his arms over to the system monitors, accessing the scanner’s files.

“Well…only Steve and Luke have used it. I was trying to figure out what might be wrong, but I couldn’t find anything in the programming. I’m thinking I might have to rebuild the damn thing.” Tony eyed Reed carefully as his sense of territorialism sprang to him, nevertheless, he attempted to swallow it.

Reed searched through the files until he had managed to bring up Steve’s. This, indeed showed just as Tony had said. His neck stretched over to each screen, leaning in closer than necessary to read every single word and calculate every single statistic.

T’challa stepped through large metallic doors and stood still until they slammed shut behind him. He squinted at Reed, whose body was on one side of the lab in front of some spare parts while his neck and arms were extended to the other side of the lab. T’challa shook his head in profound lack of understanding as to why he would insist on using his powers so unnecessarily.

“T’challa, perfect timing.” Tony exclaimed. “Can you step inside the scanner for me? Its acting up lately, and I want to see whether or not it can scan your vitals.” 

Obliging, the man took his place in the scanner while the beams of red light swept along his body, and surely enough his vitals were registered on the monitors. Reed then took that opportunity to compare with the vitals that he had previously glanced at, and then at Luke’s. “The scanner is working perfectly fine, Tony.”

T’challa stepped out of the scanner and decided to peer over Reed’s flailing limbs and began trying to evaluate the statistics himself. Tony sighed heavily as he placed the circuit board down completely and took a spot next to the two who seemed extremely perplexed by the results.

“I can see a puncture wound just above his spine.” T’challa observed.

“What happened?” Reed asked.

Tony explained quickly. “Zola captured and chained Steve to this huge table, and he kept injecting him with sedatives. That’s my best guess, though…the discharge was black. I figured it must’ve been the repercussion of Zola-brand sedatives.” He shuddered for a moment.

“Did you get any samples, do any further tests?” Reed asked eagerly.

“Well, no.”

Both T’challa and Reed shot Tony an identical dumbfounded glare.

“Why not? Tony, considering Zola caught him, there could easily be something very extreme in his system.”

“The scanner wasn’t working and—” He couldn’t just say that he had a moment whereby he was struck by empathy, and knew that Steve _hated_ going through these check-up procedures after every mission. “—He seemed completely fine, and has been for the last couple days.”

T’challa rolled his eyes at Tony while Reed tackled that judgemental look that Tony had braced himself for. Slowly he wiped his hands on his already oil-stain covered white tank top that he was used to working in.

“Where is he now?” T’challa asked.

“Probably in his room polishing his boots.” Tony mumbled. “Why? You’re not going to bring him down here, are you?” Protective didn’t quite cover it, he didn’t want Steve to be made a test subject for no reason, unless the two were completely sure that something was wrong.

“These results indicate that he, at the time, had no cardiac function. Yet his blood was somehow being pushed through his body, circulating the serum.”

Tony nodded in agreement. “That’s what I saw, but that’s impossible.”

“Not unless there is something within the chemical that promotes the flow, perhaps nano-pumps?”

“They would have to be _extremely_ small.” Tony pointed out.

“It’s possible.” Reed considered that but was beyond curious, wanting to learn more about what exactly was pushing Steve’s blood through his body with a lack of functioning circulatory system. He needed to investigate. By a force of habit his thumb pressed lightly into his temple, rounding in a massage motion to somehow provoke further thought on the matter.

“It’s clear that you’re both resigned to the idea that something is wrong with him. I think it was just a malfunction and misreading on the machine’s part. Take it from me, I don’t often blame machines that I build with my own two hands and spend copious hours programming! In this case it _could’ve_ been. But fine, I’ll get him down here.” The last few words escaped as a hesitant growl. Tony reached into his pocket for his phone and texted Steve, but when he didn’t receive a reply, he decided to tell the others that he would fetch him himself. Worried to say the least, Tony made his way toward Steve’s room where he presumed the captain was.

 

Tony took a deep breath, mustering up as much courage as he could. Already, he hated the fact that he had to drag Steve back down into the medical bay for a re-test, knowing for well the apprehension and wall of stubbornness that he was about to face.

Eventually he pressed his knuckles to the door until they made a loud knock. “Steve, you in there?”

“Come in, Tony.” The voice mumbled from inside.

His sight went straight to Steve the second he cracked open the door. The man sat, wearing his black turtleneck and jeans. He’d wrapped up warm and snug whilst sitting at his desk, sketching while he took a bite out of a piece of chicken. There was a pile of chicken bones on a plate off to the side, away from Steve’s artwork.

“Whoa, someone’s hungry. An entire bucket all to yourself Cap? Where was my invite?” Tony was stunned at the amount. On the other hand, he should have learned by now not to doubt or question the appetite of a super soldier.

Steve placed the piece he had just took a chunk of down on the plate, and wiped his mouth with a napkin before half-turning to face Tony. “I was starving after training, sorry. I would’ve invited you if I’d known.”

He shook his head and found his hand dancing fondly over the neatly folded bedsheets. He curiously sauntered over to Steve to peer over his shoulder, and was awestruck by the intricate drawing Steve was working on. “Is that me?”

“It’s us, yes.” Steve bit at the corner of his lower lip nervously, keeping his head turned away for a moment so that Tony wouldn’t catch that moment of weakness. His drawings were his heart on paper; they were everything to him, and having someone dislike his work (especially someone he held so dear) would have hurt broken him.

“Back when I re-joined the Avengers huh..? Days were much simpler back then.”

“Yeah, and your armour was easier to draw.”

Tony feigned a gasp, drawing his hand to his mouth. “Captain America, are you taking the easy way out?”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh at Tony’s dramatics. “No! No, I just liked it back then, a little more than the black and gold you wear now. Though I should be glad that there’s still some gold, after all, you _were_ the Golden Avenger.”

“Still am.” Tony pouted and puffed out his chest with pride. “But you have a point. You know some of my armour doesn’t have gold on it anymore, but I’ll make sure to include more gold in future designs for you.” Tony rested his chin on Steve’s broad muscular shoulder, allowing the tip of his bearded goatee to press flat against the soft shirt, to watch him carry on adding a few more spots of detail using gentle shading. The way that Steve would draw would often mesmerise Tony; the way the pencil would scratch against the surface of the paper, the way he would create a masterpiece from a blank slate; Tony Stark was a huge softie for anyone who could create something out of nothing, for obvious reasons.

Innovation was sexy.

That went both ways for either of them.

“So what brings you here?” Steve asked, his long lashes hiding his eyes while he tilted his head down to focus on his piece. The soft breathing by his ear made it difficult to fully concentrate though keeping up the illusion of focus would bear no harm.

Tony tried not to inhale too deeply. “I need you to come down to the medical wing with me.”

Steve’s fluid pencil movement halted mid-line, turning his head to try and get Tony in his vision. “Why?” He asked cautiously, a low hum about his voice amplified with suspicion.

“The others are insisting that I give you a proper scan, just give them peace of mind, will ya?” Tony pleaded, his attention caught by the black mark on Steve’s lower neck, peering at where the syringe had been planted.

“They’re determined. Let me guess, it’s Reed?”

“And T’challa. They’re very procedural, you have to respect that, as tedious as it is. Come on buddy, I promise I’ll buy you doughnuts afterwards, deal?”

With a heavy sigh Steve reluctantly nodded, placing the pencil down and scooting out his chair slowly so that Tony could take the appropriate steps back. “Only if they’re the ones with white chocolate stars on the top.”

“You have yourself a deal. Didn’t they name those after you?” Tony felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders, coaxing him wasn’t as hard as he thought it’d be.

“They sure did, frankly, I’m honoured.” He gave him a light hearted laugh to coat how anxious he was feeling again. As he stood his stomach made a loud growl which instantly made Tony pull an expression of sheer astonishment.

“Are you _still_ hungry?!”

“S’pose so. Come on, let’s get this over with, I want to finish that before we get called out again.” The Captain took the lead out, taking long strides as he left his neat and tidy room behind him, Tony having to take quick steps to catch him up like a lost puppy trying to catch up to its owner.

“I promise you’ll be back.”


	6. 2 days, 10 hours, 26 minutes, 12 seconds

Tony was pacing like a caged animal, walking back and forth. His black Armani shoes echoed a distinct clicking from the heel as he strode from one side of the lab to the other. His hand held his chin while his other patted his thigh, needing something to touch and play with.

“Why is this taking so long?”

“Because there is something terribly wrong.” T’challa bluntly stated.

“Don’t say that.”

“We have muted the scanner, the Captain cannot hear us Tony.”

“Still. Don’t say that.” He shook his head, scrubbing his hand over his face for a second.

“According to the systems he’s dead. There’s no life in his body. None. Somehow, the serum has been altered by something that I’ve never seen before, and that ‘something’ allows it to circulate throughout his body. However, it’s not to the extent to keep him alive. He’s walking, yet dead…” Reed speculated.

“He’s not. He’s alive, the serum must’ve helped him and must be fighting whatever it is that Zola’s injected him with.”

“Perhaps we should call McCoy? His genetic expertise might be extremely useful in this instance.”

“We don’t have time for that, T’challa.” Tony growled. “Plus he’s fine, look at him! Do you see anything wrong with him?”

“Look at this… Judging by the blood sample there is a depleting amount of haemoglobin and an increase of de-oxidised blood which means—“

“I know what it means. Let’s get him a transfusion then.”

“With the serum…?” Reed asked. “We can try with samples we’ve gotten before, but that virus is doing strange things to him. We need to keep him under strict quarantine until we can contain it. One thing’s definite, Tony; he’s been injected with something that is destroying him, and we’ll need to ensure that it’s contained so that there’s no risk of it being passed on. If it originated in his circulatory system, then there is a risk that there is a possible contagion in terms of blood. We _need_ to do more tests. T’challa is right in that we need McCoy here to help us.”

Tony shook his head. “No quarantine.”

“You must understand Tony. This is in the Captain’s best interests.” T’challa reassured him.

Reeds hand stretched over, and he placed one hand on Tony’s shoulder to reassure him. He grasped lightly at the fabric of the work-top that he’d yet to change out of.

“Tony, this is the best course of action. I know this may be hard on you since you were there at the time, and you and Steve are extremely close. This time, you _must_ put your brain before your heart.”

Tony’s eyes shut tightly and he began to grind his back teeth together in frustration. The touch to his shoulder wasn’t helping, not really, but there was a part that appreciated the small display of empathy that Reed was showing…especially considering how rare it was for him to show such affection.

He let loose an impatient huff of air and nodded. “Fine, but we need to find a cure as _fast_ as possible. The longer we keep him here, the less likely he’ll cooperate with us.” There was an air of professionalism about his manner but that was mainly an excuse, he just didn’t want Steve to be subjected to tests any longer than he should be.

“Of course, Tony.” Reed reassured him, pulling away from the screens to walk to a hidden part of the medical bay. He swiping his card and typing in a PIN for the metal wall to fold back. This in turn revealed a quarantine room that they’d built in case of an emergency. Tony was well-prepared for situations like this, yes…but never did he ever think that he would have to use this room on someone he held so dearly.

There was a look of worry that painted Tony’s face that moment as he bit his lower lip. The treacherous thought compelled him to drum his foot on the metal floor; his expensive shoes with hardened soles made a clip-clop whenever he did.

When the medical scanner’s doors opened, T’challa and Tony were there to assist Steve, taking both of his arms as they both exchanged a glance to one another that sent an immediate chill down Steve’s spine, caught in the crossfire of it.

“What’s wrong?” He turned to ask Tony.

“It’s nothing; we just need to get you in that room for a second, just to run a few more tests.” Tony reassured him, heavy words coming from a heavy heart filled with regret, feeling as though he were truly betraying someone he held so close to his own heart. But it needed to be done; it was in Steve’s best interests, so he was telling himself.

“A few more tests?” Steve’s attention was now completely hooked and he was on the brink of pushing the two away, but when he realised where exactly he was being escorted to he began to dig his heels into the floor.

“Just a few more Steve, they won’t be long.” Words tumbled from Tony’s lips filled with reluctance.

Steve glared this time, a simple narrow of his eyes was enough to make his glare look that much sharper. “Putting me in that room, Tony, I’m not stupid, why are you trying to put me under quarantine?” He turned to T’challa for answers this time, perhaps if he were unable to get Tony to tell him, much to his disappointment, he’d have to ask the other man that was so keen to escort him into the sterile white room.

“We just have tests to run, Captain. You know that Tony does not want this to last any longer than it should do, and is keen on getting us to assess the issues as soon as possible. It seems that you have been infected when you were captured. Quarantine shall be short, and as you know, it is to ensure that none of the others are at risk of getting this infection. You do understand, do you not Captain?”

With a great frustration and increasing anxiety, Steve nodded in understanding and began to resume his pace toward the quarantine doors. “I want to be out of this as soon as possible.”

“And you will, Winghead, trust me. I’ll do everything I can, in fact I promise not to sleep a wink until you’re out of here, deal?”

“Deal.” Steve replied stepping in and looking at the large pane of glass that was before him where the others would stand for observation. The thick steel doors closed behind him, the heavy sound alone making his shoulders shrug with surprise. It was then that he had come to the realisation that he was locked in, sealed in tight. Normally he would feel his heart drumming at this point, but he felt nothing but a nauseous pool swirl in his stomach which he pinned on all the food he had eaten earlier that day.

When the doors closed Tony had run quickly to the observation room and began staring through the glass at the man dressed in red white and blue, be it his casual clothes, still retained his colour scheme with his blue shirt, red and white plaid over-shirt and dark jeans. Steve always had a way of maintaining his patriotism without being too blasé about it. Steve already looked lost; surrounded by that huge room, one lonely man walking that huge space by himself.

“There’s a sterilising shower to the corner, whenever you need to use it just press the button and we’ll make sure that this screen is shut down. Don’t want anyone spying on Cap in the shower now do we?” Tony said, using the comm-system that projected into the room via microphone to speakers that were set up in the inner lining of the wall.

Steve scoffed and turned his head toward it, giving Tony the thumbs up. He took long, slow strides with his hands behind his back for the time being, wanting to take in everything as per his natural habit, but upon realising that there was indeed, not much to take in, he felt his chest weigh heavier. There wasn’t an ounce or trace of colour in the room asides from what lay over his body.

Tony watched every single twitch that Steve was making with pity and guilt, turning his head over to Reed who was already standing by the system monitors, tapping away at the keys to perform a range of scans and possible vaccinations.

“This isn’t going to be easy, is it?” Tony whispered, away from the microphone.

“No… It’s not, Tony. This is more than we had ever anticipated.”

Tony blinked away the tears that began to brim in his eyes, watching on helplessly as the Captain sat by one of the walls.

“I promise Steve… I promise… I’ll get you out of here.”

Yet another promise he made…only for it to be broken.


	7. 3 Days, 10 hours, 27 minutes, 52 seconds

It had been an entire day since Steve had been in quarantine. As promised, Tony didn’t sleep at all. The engineer was running on nothing but the constantly refilling pot of coffee that was several steps away from him. He sipped from a mug that was in his hand while he was staring at a couple of calculations. Tony had moved his workbench so he could face the observation screen and keep an eye on Steve while he was working. A day was nothing for a man who would spend days on end awake, so this was none other than a casual all-nighter for him. The rest of the Avengers had long since come to the conclusion that Tony Stark was nocturnal or that his blood was brown – filled with coffee.

Biology wasn’t his forte, but he would do anything to help his friends in need, particularly if that very friend was the man who he wanted to spend most of his time with. Most was an understatement, he wanted to spend the majority of his life with him.

Steve hadn’t slept either, much to Tony’s surprise, and yet his body showed no signs of fatigue. It was alarming to say the least but then again Steve’s serum granted him with increased stamina, so that would mean in theory it would’ve taken a lot to get him tired, and keeping in mind that they didn’t have a mission the day that Tony had taken in Steve again for the second scan, perhaps it was just the lack of strain that day that allowed Steve’s body to maintain its strength without needing rest.

“You know, you promised to get me out of here by last night…” Steve muttered after hours of silence.

When Steve was first taken to quarantine Tony would try desperately to maintain communication but it seemed that Steve was so overwhelmed by the situation that he fell silent, despite Tony’s constant efforts to talk and comfort him, the soldier was clearly not at ease. So the second he did talk, Tony’s head snapped up toward the muffled voice, reaching for his volume pad and turning it up higher so that he could hear Steve much clearer. But part of him wished that he didn’t turn the volume higher, the words that came out of Steve’s mouth only added to the stockpile of guilt that was gradually gaining more and more matter.

“I know I did… I’m sorry.” He scrubbed his fingertips along the tip of his hairline, pushing his hair back even more. He was sure in his own reflection in the pane of semi-reflective glass he could see more greys sprout, which didn’t surprise him but had hence resulted in a frown. “You know I’m doing all I can Steve, the sooner we get you better, the sooner we can get you out here.”

“Your first scan said there’s nothing wrong with me, so why now?” Steve stood up to shake out the pins and needles in his legs while striding toward the pane of glass to stare Tony in the eyes.

Tony inhaled through his teeth. “The scanner didn’t pick anything up the first time and I thought there was nothing wrong with you, I honestly thought it was my machine that made an error. But we’ve done tests on others and we realised it was working but it just wasn’t on you. It was then we found out about the virus…”

“What virus?”

Tony realised he’d had to explain it all from scratch, and he wasn’t half as good at explaining this sort as Reed was. “There’s… Your body… And well…” He was already fumbling over his own words, so he took a moment to try and compose himself; reaching for his yellow mug once more and taking a huge sip from it. Steve could see the flash of yellow even with the glare from the light above him that obscured his vision of the other side a little, realising that it was Tony’s favourite mug – one that he had gotten him when they had visited Paris together; a yellow mug with a black cat sitting in an red square, a tribute to the ‘chat noir’. His eyes were drawn toward it and Tony could see that. Even when he drew his lips away from the mugs rim he found himself staring at it with nostalgia. Tony had to clear his throat to snap himself away from the wonderful memory of spending such a wonderful time with Steve in Paris.

“So basically your body’s systems have completely shut down, but the serum is helping them a little, well, it’s helping the blood flow through your body but it’s also pumping a bad toxin through it too. We have to find a way to get this toxin out of your body before it starts infecting anyone else.”

“What do you mean it’s shut my body down?” Steve’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I can’t explain, but your organs aren’t… Functioning the way they should.”

“That makes no sense at all. I wouldn’t be standing if my organs weren’t functioning, Tony!”

That was a good point, one that Tony couldn’t really explain. “But the serum is giving them blood, just the blood that’s got a toxin in it, causing an infection.”

“How am I still standing? This doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well I suppose it’s trying to—you know, while some sort of blood flows, there’s some sort of function and—“

“Tony, please, just tell me the truth! I’m sick and tired of being lied to and being made to undergo test after test.” Steve pleaded this time, though his voice remained harsh and curt, the inflection and the slope of his eyebrows was much more begging.

“I don’t know Steve, that’s my honest answer.” Tony finally answered with a whine. “I don’t know, and we’re sitting here trying to figure it all out and none of us can come up with answers so far. So we’re bringing in Hank from Xavier’s school to help us on this, he has an expertise in mutations and would probably be able to tell us what’s going on in your system.”

“Are you trying to tell me that Zola’s made me into some sort of mutant?” His eyes were widened, large blue orbs with quivering shock staring straight through the glass.

“I’m not saying anything but… That could always be a possibility.”

Steve’s hand clenched into a fist, tightening with every word. “Dammit Tony!”

“Don’t blame me!” Tony stood up from his chair, stepping around his table and as close as he could to the glass. “I’m trying to help!”

“You were supposed to help me back before Zola—“

“Are you blaming me?!”

“Maybe I am.”

There was a moment of silence between them as an electrifying glare passed, with Steve stood up standing as close to the glass as he could too. He waited until he spotted the small falter, the flicker in Tony’s eye, the sideward dart of the pupil that showed his guilt begin to eat at him. Steve’s jaw clenched in turn, a pang of guilt ringing through his chest.

“Fine, I’m not blaming you. But you promised you would get me out of here, Tony, I have things to do…”

Tony glanced back up, still hurt. “I know Steve, I’m trying to make this process as quick as I can… McCoy is coming in and he should be able to help more than I can.” He muttered. “I want to get you out of here Steve, do you think I enjoy seeing you cooped up like this?” Tony’s eyebrows slanted and he pressed his palm against the glass, resisting the urge to punch it.

“I know you don’t…” Steve tried to put himself in Tony’s shoes that moment. “Just…” Steve’s arm quivered and he turned from the glass, walking to another side of the room and punching the wall with frustration. The loud sound of impact made Tony jump.

“I’ll… I’ll get you a punching bag in there, and I’ll bring some paper, hey, maybe you can finish that drawing of me?” He tried to suggest, compelled to lift the mood of the soldier.

Steve punched the wall again and shook his head, drawing back and looking at his knuckles that weren’t even close to bruising. There were absolutely no signs of it at all, his skin remained fully in tact with not even a scratch.

“I’ll get them for you, I’ll be right back…” Tony darted out of the room but mainly to get fresh air for himself. Once he was outside he took a deep breath and found his back hitting against the wall of the hallway, placing his face in his hands and scrubbing them down his face. His breath hitched and he actually felt sick, but he had to reassure himself that once Hank was here that it would be better, that it would get better.

A while later Steve was sat down staring at his knuckles, grazing his thumb over each one that had made impact with the wall until he was distracted by a steady creek. Toward the door one of Tony’s many bots reeled in, this one with a conveyer-belt under its wheels, making a tiny squeaking noise as it wheeled itself to the centre of the room. Steve kept his eyes fixed on it until it reached up, chaining up a punching bag and then beeping over at Steve. The Captain took that as a cue to scramble to his feet and hastily stepped to the bot that dispensed a sketchbook from its small orange compartment, along with a pen before scooting out of the room again. Steve’s eyes turned to the window as he mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Tony, grabbing the pen and paper from the floor and quickly sitting down. If he had nothing better to do the only cure for his restlessness would be to draw the pain away. He held no grudge against Tony but the conditions were making him more and more anxious, the sterile surroundings providing as a reminder that he was indeed encased in a medical facility, but the small touches of the outside being brought to him were enough to calm him temporarily.

Tony was staring at Steve, looking at him through the screens rather than using the window this time. The faintest of smiles crept along his lips, at least it was a little alleviating to see Steve kept busy, back drawing again. He could’ve sat there for hours on end watching Steve draw lie that, with such talent and such skill, in awe of the beauty not only of the drawing but of the man holding the pen. His silent feelings for the Captain never did and never would subside as much as he tried to resist them, and seeing him in a helpless state only made him yearn for him even more. He made a deal to himself; the second that Steve was out of there he would tell him, he would tell him everything, every single emotion he had felt. From the moment they first met up until now, how he loved and adored Steve with every bone in his body and wanted nothing more than to just grow old with him – and that was saying something for Tony. He was a man that secretly wanted to commit, but failed to do so since the loss of Rumiko (the one woman he was so close to marrying years ago) and had since been plagued with women who either didn’t want to or had darker intentions. Steve had been one of his longest relationships and they had always seemed closer than friends just friends, who else would he turn to if he couldn’t sleep?

Soon enough Hank McCoy had arrived, looking as dapper as he usually did in his lab coat, ready to get to work straight away. Tony was appeased when Hank began running samples, sending in bots to retrieve samples from Steve who at this point had no choice but to co-operate, though Tony begged Hank to keep the poking and prodding to a minimum. He had just managed to pacify Steve, he didn’t want to get his emotions up again.

“This is impossible, a new mutation, a new disease…” Hank pondered over a few samples with Reed close-by, T’challa reading off the screen readings too.

“Initially I thought it could be Cotard delusion given how he’s not sleeping.” Reed stated.

“He did stop breathing when I was there, I mean, I think he did but that’s impossible.” Tony said, trying not to give too much away.

Critical eyes scanned each statistic with intense scrutiny. “He no longer requires oxygen… There’s very little haemoglobin left in his system at all.”

 “Let’s try a transfusion, we still have some of his blood from various samples, we can replicate and give him a supply and see if it’s strong enough to fight off the virus.” Reed suggested.

Hank and T’challa both nodded in agreement while they went to get the samples and try their best to replicate them. Tony recalled why exactly he hated this; Steve was extremely protective over his blood, it had the secret to the serum in it. He had been captured and tortured for the serum, having had his blood extracted, the serum being replicated but never to the potential degree that Steve’s was, it was inexplicable. Regardless, Tony followed the others and observed carefully as they began to try and formulate more of Steve’s blood for a transfusion.


	8. 4 Days, 11 hours, 17 minutes, 33 seconds

Another night without sleep, as promised, this was the second day without sleep and his vision was getting a little hazier but thanks to constantly topping himself up with caffeine he was a little more alert than he would’ve been without it. He overlooked the blood formulating meticulously with his eyes returning to Steve every so often, not wanting to tear them away from the man who seemed so saddened by being placed in that room and made to sit there alone. From time to time he would try and speak to him via intercom, but Steve would reply with shortened answers which only made Tony more determined to get him out of there; he couldn’t sit there and watch the beacon of hope fizzle into a broken man.

He spent other time trying to assemble a bot that could go in there and deliver the injection, but realised that he did have a better way of going in there rather than using a bot, it would involve his suit being sterilized afterwards but at least he could go in there with Steve if only briefly. He donned one of his suits that he had used for high radiation purposes, mainly when working with some of his more explosive materials; a black suit with a matted finish and red faceplate along with a couple of red accents just for aesthetic purposes. He grabbed the large syringe and stepped through the doors, going through one set that did the decontamination and then stepping through the main locked doors.

Steve looked up and at that moment Tony could’ve sworn Steve’s eye colour was different. He knew it so well after staring eye to eye with him on countless occasions, his eyes seemed lighter in colour, a pale blue rather than azure.

“Hey, look whos here with presents.” Tony spread his arms and eyed the man who shuffled to his feet before him, staggering a little and stepping up to Tony.

“What now?” He asked with a heavy sigh.

“Blood transfusion, I made this handy dandy syringe to help speed up the process; you put this in your arm and just wait for a while and… It’s just injecting more of your own blood in your system to fight off whatever’s inside you. Your immune system boosted with a couple of vitamins should be able to fight it off.” He reached for Steve’s arm carefully but Steve found himself smacking Tony’s hand away.

“Don’t touch me with that needle!” He barked.

“What’s wrong Steve, come on, this is supposed to help you.”

“Don’t touch me…” He wrapped his arms around himself, hanging his head a little, taking deep breaths. It was abnormally uncharacteristic of him to refuse help like that, especially when he was so eager to get out of there.

“Steve… Please, I promise, this will help you.” He spoke through the helmet, biting his lower lip but glad that Steve couldn’t see him doing that.

Then there was silence as Steve kept his head hung.

“Please Steve…” Tony pleaded. “Please, and I promise I’ll bring some extra food this time. Yesterday you went through what we brought you in two seconds flat, I’ll bring burgers, doughnuts, the works. Come on Cap, I know your sweet tooth… How about that apple pie huh?”

“I feel like a child and you’re trying to bribe me with food?” Steve asked with disbelief.

“Not bribe… Okay, bribe. But listen, Steve, hopefully this is your ticket out of here! We can’t see if we don’t try.” He explained,

Steve with a begrudging movement offered his arm to Tony who carefully pierced his skin with the injection and began administering the transfusion, a longer chord attaching from his suit to the syringe that had much more blood, but to his surprise Steve’s body seemed to soak up the blood rather quickly. It was as if he was giving water to someone who had been dehydrated; it was a matter of moments before the entire pouch of blood had been drained and Steve had regained a little more colour to his skin, even his hair was once more accumulating that golden shimmer.

“Wow that was… Quicker than expected. How are you feeling?”

“D-dizzy…” Steve said before collapsing to his knees, Tony quickly knelt down next to him and wrapped his huge metallic arms around Steve to keep him upright.

“Blood rush, I assume.” Tony mumbled, rubbing Steve’s back and sitting next to him, eyes fixed on him with concern. Even though he was focused on Steve he could feel the eyes of the others from behind the glass and wondered if this is how Steve had felt throughout the duration of his stay; watched, spied upon with little privacy. Instead he huddled Steve close, keeping him tight in his arms as though he were trying to protect him from the overlooking gaze of the others. He stayed there and pressed his faceplate to the side of Steve’s face. He desperately wanted to lift it and give him the reassurance he needed and much more, but he knew that Steve had to be completely cured before he could do that. Tony had faith in the transfusion and hoped that would work, hoping at that point was an understatement; he was actually close to praying it would work. He was sick of telling the others that they couldn’t come in to visit him because he knew that Steve would hate being seen in the state that he was, so having to lie to the other Avengers about Steve’s health was slowly tearing him apart as it was.

Tony found himself shutting his eyes for a second, comforted by just being next to Steve, just to be holding him in his arms like that, he drifted off into a fatigue induced rest.

Suddenly a loud sound jolted him awake.

Steve was bending forward and vomited out a huge amount of black ooze. The sound was absolutely putrid, yet alone the sight, enough to make Tony’s stomach turn. In fact, he was sure he threw up a little in his suit. Quickly he rubbed Steve’s back. “Better out than in, huh?”

Steve nodded and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, coughing loudly while Tony helped lay him down properly and ran over to the corner shower to cup his hands under the sterilised water and rushed over to Steve, offering it to him to drink, which he did, then did the same thing again to get enough water to wash Steve’s face.

“Need a shower big guy? We can get you showered up… You’ll be all fresh and clean and you’ll feel better.”

“I- I’m fine… I just…”

“Rest, yeah, that’s right.” Tony nervously stuttered, trying to lead Steve over to the mattress they had lain out the night before for him and making sure he was placed upon it. “You rest, sleep, get some sleep.”

“Can you stay here?” Steve asked.

Tony looked up to the glass for confirmation then looked at his own oxygen supply which was running low. He sighed. “Let me go get a new tank then I’ll be right in okay, Cap? I’ll be back, just give me a while, gotta get this suit cleaned up again and… Yeah, I’ll be here.” He fumbled to his feet, making sure Steve was resting, pushing his hair out of his face for him before he stood and then walking to the door. It was heart breaking to leave Steve like this, if only for a short moment. He looked so helpless, so sick, so ill. The last time he had seen Steve looking remotely like this it was when his serum had failed and the loss of it had made him as skinny as he once was. But he hoped with all of his heart that this was the start of Steve’s recovery.

He stepped through the first set of doors to the sterilising chamber and allowed his suit pieces to slide off to get treated before he himself was doused with water and mist, it was extremely thorough and ensured that nothing was brought back into the lab with him. He eventually stepped out into a clean robe and fuzzy slippers, scrubbing at his hair with a soft personalised towel while he walked into the cleaned medical bay again with the others frantically arguing amongst themselves over whatever it was on that screen.

“What’s with all the commotion boys?” Tony asked.

“His body is…” Hank said in astonishment. “…It’s attacking the new blood, the serum isn’t surviving…”

“What?” Tony’s eyes shot open wide and he ran toward the monitors to watch how the blood was reacting on the screen, having put nano-cameras the size of cells into the blood that they were transfusing.

The screens were showing how the virus was attacking and changing the blood cells, draining them of all the oxygen and then forcing out the unnecessary toxins which explained why Steve vomited up the strange liquid.

“How can his body reject his own blood?!” Tony shouted.

“It’s not necessarily rejecting it, it’s taking it in but morphing it, adapting it to change to suit it’s body… forced evolution.” Hank scratched his chin, the blue tufts of hair smoothing under his long claws he had for fingernails. “This is truly fascinating.”

“I’ve never seen a contagion like this before.” Reed remarked.

“What’s it doing to him; he looked like he was getting better!” Tony shouted again.

“Tony.” T’challa stepped in front of him and placed both hands on his shoulders to calm him down. “It did not work. We need to find more solutions, study him more.”

“He’s not a lab rat!” Tony screamed with frustration, pulling out of T’challa’s grip. Perhaps it was a mix of lack of sleep and too much coffee but he felt heated, his emotions were brimming and he threw a couple of papers off the table. “He’s not to be studied like that! He’s a person, he’s alive, he’s a real man! You can’t keep him like this!” He blinked away the tears.

“We understand that Tony but we must prevent this from becoming worse.” T’challa grabbed Tony’s hand this time to stop him from lashing out any more.

Tony took a couple of deep breathes. He could feel his anger boiling before he was grabbed, being pulled to attention to face them all. The men before him looming over like all knowing oracles, staring down at a soul that used to stand among them, expecting him to join so willingly without debate. Slowly he recollected himself, turning to look at Steve laying on the mattress, his body turned and facing the wall.

“We need to save him…” He whispered, eyes glowing in the dim blue light of the screens.


	9. 5 Days, 3 hours, 56 minutes, 24 seconds

The sound of trickling water was the only sound in the entire room that Steve was locked in. Patterns and traces dancing down the curve of his back as water sprinkled from the shower head, his golden hair that was always perfectly styled now dripping wet as a mop of dirty blond over his eyes. Steve rested the palm of his hand on the tiles of the wall, just allowing the water to engulf him. The steam and mist from the warm waters, the only warm presence in the entire room, bringing him a sense of serenity.

He wasn’t supposed to be watching. At this point Tony was supposed to turn the shutters and turn the glass into a blind, but instead he dialled it to a one way mirror so that he could see through. Reed, Hank and T’Challa weren’t in the lab at that time in the morning; they were catching up on their own rest as well as running samples in their own lab. Tony was the only one there and he was barely awake. Staying up for as long as he did was having a number of ill effects on him, especially his mental state. He felt like a wreck and strangely emotional, as well as exhausted, frustrated and upset, his body was trembling oh so slightly and his teeth chattered – the freezing cold atmosphere of the labs was actually getting to him. He covered himself up with a black turtleneck, and yet he still shivered, but he didn’t want to tear his eyes away from Steve for a second.

He watched the beads of water cascade down his perfectly smooth skin, he watched as Steve’s long fingers brushed and scrubbed at his skin, the drops trickling into the crevices of the indents of muscle, along the defined curve of his lower back. He was absolutely mesmerised by every small shift and movement. He had seen him naked before, obviously, that and the savage lands, their bodies weren’t foreign to one another and now in desperation Tony wanted to run his fingers along it. He traced along the misted window with his finger, along the delicate curve that Steve’s body outlined. His breathing steadied and he watched the way Steve’s lips moved under the water when the water skimmed over his face, glittering over his long eyelashes.

Steve turned around in the shower and Tony managed to get a good look at his pectorals, his wonderfully toned biceps, his perfectly sculpted abdomen. His mind wondered and all he could imagine was planting kiss after kiss over each perfectly divided portion of muscle, the soft warmth of Steve’s skin against his lips, kissing further and further down toward the V of his hips.

Steve’s eyelashes fluttered open, perfectly outlining his now pale blue eyes.

Tony could’ve sworn for that second Steve could see through the one sided mirror and was looking directly at Tony.

Just when he was running his hand down to reach his belt buckle—

The doors behind him closed and he quickly smacked one of the buttons to turn the glass that he was staring through into completely opaque blinds. Tony jumped to his feet and looked behind him, still jumpy with his eyes darting behind him to look at whoever decided to waltz in.

Reed stood with papers in his hands, taking his place by the desk. “Anything unusual?”

“No!” Tony exclaimed before forcing himself to quieten his voice. “I mean…” Ehem. “No. The pigment of his skin is continuing to change and become paler than before… I assume that’s the lack of blood, right?“

“Presumably.” Reed said. “Did he eat today?”

“Yeah, he had the usual. I brought food down for him but he ate two plate-fulls. At least he’s eating, right?”

“That’s good. Maintaining regular functions like that, it’s a good sign.”

 

“Yeah, it’s good. He’s just… Having a shower now, more of that black goop was coming out of his ears and nose. You know, he didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“And neither did you, Tony.” Reed said, brewing a fresh pot of coffee and stretching his arm over to hand Tony the same mug he had been using for days, realising that it had an extreme sentimental value to him. “Self deprecation should be avoided, I know for some obscure reason that you blame yourself for this but this isn’t your fault, it’s Zola’s. You shouldn’t suffer for what he’s done.”

Tony was eager to change the subject, huddling the mug in his hands and blowing on it to cool it down a little. “Speaking of Zola…”

“He’s not saying a word and we’ve run tests in his lab. Marc was kind enough to provide us with some samples, but nothing has given us any clues as to what we’re facing. Zola is extremely unpredictable, his usual creations aren’t viral like this, nor do they contain possible contagions. Hanks taken the samples that we’ve gotten back to his lab too, and right now nothing has come back, no results at all, we simply don’t know what we’re facing here.”

Tony placed the mug down and fell into his seat, placing his hand over his red bloodshot eyes. “I just want Steve out of here…”

“We all do. We’ve made the team aware of what’s happening, briefly, and they all know that Cap is in good hands now and that he needs his space.”

“You told them?!” Tony stared up at him, rattled.

“Before you snap at us, all we’ve said is that Cap is ill and needs to be taken care of, it’s a virus and we’re looking into it and until then Janet is in charge and is running things extremely smoothly.”

Tony breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good… Just make sure they don’t come down here. Cap’s pride means a lot to him.”

“As does yours, I’m sure.”

Tony nodded and took a sip of the black liquid before placing it down, but he almost spilled it when he jumped after he heard a loud noise. Quickly Tony made sure the glass was one sided again and there Steve stood, a towel around his waist as he punched the wall over and over. He looked over to the punching bag to see it on the floor, beaten down and ripped, and now Steve was punching at the wall blindly.

“Steve…! Steve! What’s wrong?!” Tony yelled over the microphone.

Steve’s eyes widened and he turned to Tony as though he’d just snapped out of a daze, staring at his hand then at the punching bag, rubbing his head.

“What just happened?” Tony asked.

“I don’t… I don’t remember… I just…” Steve stuttered, his fingers skimming over his torn flesh that wasn’t bleeding at all.

 

The truth was the last thing he could remember was thinking about being trapped. How much he hated being trapped and confined, how much he craved the scent of fresh air and freedom that he stood for. He felt a stir of emotions before it all became blurred into one; being attacked by Zola, being constantly tormented but just wanting to help people and knowing that he was useless when he was trapped, wanting Tony to free him, pleading with Tony, screaming for him to let him go and then a harsh pain surged through his stomach and the next thing he knew he was punching the wall.

“I saw red.” He breathed out, but that didn’t lift the heavy feeling in his chest.

Then that pain returned and he winced. “T-tony… Can you get me some more food, anything, I need to eat.” His mother always used to say food was a cure, but then again he wasn’t sure whether his mother was just trying to get him to eat more since he was so skinny and sickly.

“Sure, yeah, just let me, I’ll be right back.” The dark haired man pushed himself up, with Reed watching him instead. He coughed and dashed out as quickly as he could to get Steve some food, anything he could grab.

Tony ran into the kitchen to see the others there for breakfast, running to the fridge and pulling out some burgers from the night before, and other bits and pieces that he could find. While T’Challa insisted that keeping Steve on a strict diet was important to observe any changes in his system or any potential reactions, right now Tony didn’t have time to think, nor was he particularly capable of thinking clearly. He grabbed what he could with the others staring at him, utterly bewildered.

“Looking for some food there?” Peter asked, pulling away from his bowl of fruit loops.

“I don’t have time, I need food I…” He grabbed what he could and cradled it in his arms in a hectic rush, running out of the door. His vision became even more blurred, his breath became fast and then…

…He fell.

Tony Stark had passed out.


	10. 5 Days, 10 hours, 23 minutes, 59 seconds

The smell of popcorn wafted up Tony’s nose. The faint chatter of the news caster that he was sure that he had once dated prompted him to groan, he sincerely hoped that she wasn’t there in that house again, that was the last thing he needed to deal. Was he hulliciating? He could’ve sworn that he was getting food a moment ago in a hurry until he was thrown into a dream world that reminded him strangely of Dream Vision, but then he was overthinking things; he didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t until—

He shot up, sitting up on the large leather couch that was located in the centre of the Avengers living room with a huge blanket placed over him. His fingertips skimmed along the felt and he realised that was Steve’s blanket, the one that he would wrap around himself whenever he was sitting downstairs alone usually on their days off watching some sort of horror movie. Tony absolutely despised horror movies but he would pluck up the courage to sit beside Steve and join him, mainly for his company of course, considering most of the time he would have his face buried into Steve’s shoulder trying to hide from whatever creature it was on the screen. He had witnessed enough traumatic and petrifying events in his life; he didn’t need to see it on TV in his home-life.

He found himself cuddling it, distracted by the distinct aroma it had trapped in every thread and the warmth it held.

Tony snapped out of it and looked around at the TV that was on behind him, the news of course, and then there was Jessica sitting down with one leg folded over the other crunching popcorn between her teeth, turning her head to look at Tony whilst Anya sat on the arm of the chair next to Jessica, reaching over to try and get some of the corn. Jessica frowned at her before getting a handful and chucking it at her playfully, making the younger girl pout before laughing, both of their attention turning toward the man who sat upright with a cold sweat dripping down his temple.

“You okay Tony? You passed out in the hallway with a tonne of food in your hands…”

“Yeah I…” He rubbed his head. “Steve! Where’s the food?”

“Uh, it’s back in the kitchen-” Anya was cut off when Tony bolted up, still with the blanket wrapped around him, nearly tripping over it but in a frantic mess he ran back to get all the food that was collected on the table and then dashed back down as quickly as he could, not even bothering to take the elevator but running down the stairs and stumbling a few times before finally making to the lager bolted doors that stood in his way. He heard the gentle metallic click of hidden machinery after the beam of blue had met his iris, his pupil constricting then dilating to the light. Another loud sound was heard after the retinal scan was complete and the set of doors and panels shifted aside to reveal the medical bay that he had now adopted as his second lab for the time being. 

“I have the food!” He shouted.

Reed looked behind him.

“Tony, while you were sleeping I’d managed to get some food for him, I got him just as T’Challa and Hank had asked; the balanced diet but it’s still not enough.”

“What do you mean, you gave him two servings right? You know he’s a super soldier so his metabolism…”

“Yes, I know that, Tony.” He rolled his eyes at being underestimated by his friend, his hands reached over for the food that was in Tony’s arms and he gathered it up. “I’ll purify this; make sure that it’s clean.” Reed said, gesturing for Tony to have a look at Steve’s state.

Tony could feel his heart drumming again with anxiety when he stepped closer, glancing at Steve who was lying on his mattress clutching his stomach, groaning loudly, writhing with pain. His skin had paled completely and now looked as white a snow, matching his paler eyes which he could only describe as a haunting icy blue.

“Tony… Tony!” Steve called as he felt the sharp pains stab into him.

“Steve, whats wrong?” Tony pressed his hands by the microphone.

“It… Argh!” He grimaced, his entire body trembling.

“Get the food in there quick, maybe it’ll help!” Tony barked at Reed.

“Tony just wait!” Reed said, ensuring the food was clean before placing it in the small pigeonhole that they dispensed the food in. The tray slid down the chute and slid in front of Steve who turned around right away, practically jumping on the food and scoffing it down as quickly as he could. He took large bites, barely taking any time to chew before swallowing, ravenous hunger consuming him and making him eat like a wild animal. He picked through the wrappers, shoving them to one side while he chewed the meat and swallowed with heavy gulps, eyes turning up to the glass that was returned to its regular transparent setting.

Steve licked his lips and pushed the empty tray away. “M-more…”

“Hey now pal, I think you’ve had enough but how does your stomach feel?” Tony asked.

“Better… But I’m still hungry. It does feel better though, I don’t suppose you have more burgers, Shellhead? I knew I could rely on you.” Steve smiled weakly up at him.

“Sorry I took so long, by the way. Passed out… Lack of sleep. Our promise and all.”

Steve walked to the glass and pressed his hands against it, as greasy as they were after eating. “Thank you.” He said with a genuine return of gratitude. Tony wasn’t sleeping at all because of him, and hearing that he’d fainted because of it saddened him. The overwhelming feeling in his gut wasn’t helping his attempts to sympathise, though. He felt boiling in his stomach and moved to sit back down, feeling weakened with the lack of food, even though he had just eaten enough for three people.

When Steve returned his thanks, Tony felt his heart swell, turning to Reed. “Let’s get him more food.”

“More? Tony, he’s eaten enough…”

“Look at him, his body is weak, without the right blood in it, with that virus inside him it’s making him weak. We need to keep his strength up and the only way we can is by feeding him. Look here.” Tony gestured to the monitors. “You see how it’s metabolising fast and going straight into his blood stream, we need to keep getting him more food, come on, you get the food and I’ll keep an eye on hm.” 

“Tony, I’m really not sure about this.” Reed drawled with hesitance.

“Please, Reed, for once listen to me. I know you and the others have had your ideas and I’ve been going with it, but I can’t sit here and watch him suffer. We’re keeping him here and giving him food shouldn’t be harmful, it looks like it’s helping him. You must have heard that phrase- feed a cold starve a fever? Maybe he’s got a cold, let’s just go with that.”

There was a reluctant turn of his head as Reed began meandering his way around the large solid squares of machinery to his way out to get more food.

Tony’s eyes returned to the man in the box. Steve clutched his stomach again, curled up by his mattress in the same position that Tony had just found him in the second that he had walked in. It was as though the food that he had just given him had no effect, but at least it was promoting Steve to move a little. Lately he hadn’t been moving as much, though Tony didn’t blame him entirely for that. Being stuck and trapped in a small room may have made him feel more claustrophobic than ever. Within this last day Steve had taken a shower, which was progress, and had an inexplicable violent outburst that resulted in some injuries along his hand, and yet no bleeding at all.

The punching bag was still on the floor of the room, which scared Tony. He didn’t know how it could’ve fallen off the chain. He checked the security footage again but he did realise whenever Steve was having a shower it was turned off for his own privacy. He may have been keeping it there but the soldier has his rights, and he wouldn’t infringe on them either, even though unbeknownst to Reed and the others just prior to that he couldn’t help himself from being lost in basking in the wonderful glow of the man that he admired to such a deep set extent. They would never know nor would they ever understand how he felt and how he had always felt. His priority now was getting Steve out of there, and he had already partially broken his promise when he had fainted from his fatigue. He said that he wouldn’t rest and Steve seemed to appreciate that, though there was that glance of sadness that he did spot even through the glass that indicated pity for him.

“Cap…” He said through the microphone, swallowing down the huge lump in his throat. “I’m sorry for breaking the promise I made to you, I promised I wouldn’t… I promised...” He could feel himself choking up, he could feel the lump getting bigger in his throat, the burning sensation in his eyes whenever he so attempted to blink away the tears that were gradually accumulating in his eyes. “I’m sorry Steve, I really am.” He spluttered. His hand fell away from the microphone and fell down to his side. He felt his neck roll and his head hung, his messy black hair fell forward, strands of grey along his temples coming more into sight. 

Drops began to fall on the mess of papers in front of him, blurring the ink that was scrawled all over them. Water spreading, tainting, blurring the reality, obscuring and acting as a catalyst for the ink to bleed while more and more drops fell from Tony’s eyes onto the paper. His hands balled into fists by his side and he began to sob between gritted teeth.

Steve could hear every sound that Tony was making through that microphone. He could hear the hitching breaths and the constant apologies and turned again toward the glass. Slowly he rose to his feet despite the never ending aching pain in his stomach, staggering toward the glass and looking up at him. Instead of tears a black drop of liquid pooled in his tear-duct and slowly began to trickle down his snow-white skin before he reached his hand up and brushed it away, though smearing the black over the sharp edge of his cheekbone.

Tony spotted the shift of the shadow and stared up at the pale skinned, tall man that stood in front of him. Even through a blur of tears he saw him, he saw that tear skim down his bloodless skin, a dark track left in place of it. He drew himself closer and pressed both hands against the glass, only for Steve to mimic him and do the same, staring so pleadingly.

“I’m sorry…” Tony whispered.

“You’re forgiven…” Steve mouthed in return, though he wasn’t entirely sure how much he meant it. But with the pain running through his body and the inability to think clearly beyond it, he appreciated the temporary silence in his mind whenever Tony would stare at him in that way, staring at him with a genuine care and consideration and that alone provided him with warmth beyond anything else in that room.

Those were words Tony had been dying to hear for years, and he would certainly cherish them for years to come.

_I love him._

***

When Reed had returned  with the sterilised food in his arms, folded into the flexible skin of his forearm that he was using as a bag and that looked more like a sling he spotted Tony standing by the glass with his palms pressed against it and tilted his head when he noticed Steve doing the same.

“You found a way to calm him?” Reed asked with interest.

“He’s not a beast, he’s still our Captain, aren’t you Steve?”

“I’m not an animal either, I…” Steve paused, hearing his stomach growl again and pulling back from the glass. “I’m a… I’m still me.” He repeated, mainly as a mantra to himself.

“You are, you’re still Steve.” Tony repeated, watching Reed carefully as he began to dispense the food the same way as last time; through the chute and on the tray, ensuring that everything that entered was thoroughly sterilised.

Steve tore himself away from the screen and turned to the food, eating just as he did before, quietly huddling the food to himself and trying to make it last this time. As much as he wanted to take slow bites and chew it all it was as though his body was trying to fight against him at that point and began tearing and ripping at the food. “I’m so hungry…” He muttered between bites.

He was trying. He really was.

But was trying really _good_ enough?


	11. 6 Days, 12 hours, 12 minutes, 2 seconds

Six days without sleep was almost unheard of for a human being. There wasn’t one person that could out-last Tony Stark and his immutable insomnia in the entire tower, and yet Steve seemed to do it without even realising. Tony had grown past thinking that it was just the serum keeping him awake, coming to the sad realisation that it was indeed something much more than that, a realisation that he didn’t want to make.

Now that he and Steve had made peace with each other, and as keen as he was to atone for his broken promise, for now he had his head rested on the table – his cheek pressed against the metal surface that reflected his untamed beard that was growing further and further out of control with each passing day; unkempt. He breathed softly in his deep slumber, but his mind was plagued with nightmares about betraying his closest friend.

Steve was sluggishly pacing the room at that point. He could feel his thought pattern becoming erratic as he was plagued with the constant restlessness from being confined for that long without much to do. The punching bag was broken and on the floor and Tony hadn’t really had the chance to fix it, so Steve had tried but was unable to repair the chains that were broken, even when he had bent the metal there was absolutely no chance of getting it up there even as he tried to think of different ways. Usually this would be a synch for Steve; after all, he was a master tactician with much more to him than what was given to him by the serum.  He was gifted with brains, the ability to think and advise driven by his constant thirst for knowledge. He may not have been on a genius level but tactics wise he was one of the best out there. There was a reason that he was seen as one of the greatest heroes that had ever lived, and that wasn’t just because of the serum that came out of the bottle and his heart of gold.

A master tactician that couldn’t hang a simple punching bag or fix a chain, how absurd.

Whenever he tried to think about it his mind would drift onto other things, mainly the constant and reoccurring pain in his stomach. He had attempted to ration the food that he was given as he was used to back in his own time and back on the field but he would feel his mind just black out completely, as though he had fallen into an abyss and when he had finally managed to heave himself out of it, the food was gone and his hands were covered with the crumbs and remnants of the once whole meal.

He paced and paced like a cage animal but with slow steps, dragging his feet but mentally scolding himself whenever he did; he would hear his Sarge’s voice growling at him in his head, shouting and threatening to send him to the kitchens to peel the potatoes if he didn’t lift his feet when he was walking, if he didn’t keep his back straight, posture up, shoulders squared and sharp.

It was when he was walking that he had managed to catch his reflection in the glass. Tony had switched it to the one sided mirror so that the engineer could peer through but Steve couldn’t see back, though Steve didn’t know that. All he knew was that he was being given his privacy at that moment but the opaque consistency of the glass allowed the light to reflect off it and thus his reflection was seen.

Cautiously he stepped toward it to take a better look. The first thing he noticed was that his eyes were icy blue and his pupils looked constricted, it looked demonic with black veins instead of red streaming along the whites of his eyes. He leaned closer to have a better look; placing his hands just on his cheeks and slightly tugging on his skin so that he could see into his own eyes better. His skin was pale, sickly looking. His face seemed sunken in, cheekbones seemed sharper and angular. His hands trailed down to his lips that were pale in colour, then to his hands that were skeletal and seemed unfamiliar. His muscles looked as though he was starting to fade away and yet he remained tall in stature wondering how the serum still maintained its effect, but whatever condition he was in it seemed to be beyond any of the scientists, it seemed much was to be explained to him. His hair hung dead even as he tried to push it back into it’s neat parting, it seemed to just lay heavy and without lustre.

He found his jaw quivering as he looked deep into his soul-less eyes once more, pleadingly, hoping and praying that wasn’t him staring back, that this was some hallucination. He felt broken at the realisation when his fingers touched the sharpness along his jaw, that he could practically feel the bone.

This is what he had become; a monster.

How could anyone love someone that looked like that, particularly the man that he loved the most. Although he was sure that vanity wasn’t what attracted Tony to Steve, there were doubts in his mind that would return now and then. But if he was a creature locked in quarantine how could anyone ever love that? There was an entire world outside that box and what was to say that Tony wouldn’t one day step away and move on, leaving Steve there forever.

_He wouldn’t do that._

_Or would he?_

More black liquid swirled in his tear ducts and he bit hard on his lower lip, staring with anguish at this dead soul that narrowed his eyes back at him. He stared as the black droplet slid down his skin, outlining the now rigid shape of his face. Painfully he brushed it away and smeared it once again, rubbing at it over and over trying to get rid of the mark before letting out a yell of pain. His frantic mind, his clouded thoughts along with the stress and heavy duties he carried on his shoulders were tallying up to that very moment. He yelled loudly, punching at the glass, at that disgusting creature that was staring back at him, at that demon that was keeping him confined and away from the people he loved. He punched and punched, feeling the glass vibrate under his knuckles. He noticed his skin tear, he noticed it peel back. Each punch hitting harder, sure that he saw one or two cracks form until he pulled back and saw the bone of his knuckles now on display. Black gunk spewing from it, surrounding it, to which he yelled again and began to pull at his hair with frustration and tainting it what that very black that was over his hands, straying it through the soft once sunny blond. He screamed as loud as he could. For some reason he couldn’t hold back when all he saw was red in front of him, he could feel his sanity begin to dwindle away with each passing moment.

 

Tony was jolted awake when he heard the loud thud, raising his now reddened cheek and rubbing it while he turned to reach for the switch to make the glass two sided again, but everything was chaos in his head the moment he woke up. He had to snap to his senses and smacked the button to adjust the settings of the quarantine screen, that’s when he saw it; black smudges along the screen with spider-web cracks, very small ones, but they were still there. It must have taken immense strength to even phase that glass, so seeing it broken made Tony’s sense of danger spike. He then heard the screaming, the shouts of pain and kicked the chair that he was sitting on away while he stood to his feet to look at Steve who was on his knees, clutching his head and screaming.

“Steve!” Tony yelled. “Steve, snap out of it, what’s wrong?” He asked with a slur of fatigue. He used extremis to command his bots to start repairing the screen while he was there, knowing for well that he couldn’t risk spreading the contagion that was infecting Steve in such a dramatic way.

“Steve!” Tony yelled over and over, his own hands hitting at the glass before he decided enough was enough. He ran to suit up, putting on the very suit that he had used before, being sure to push through both doors and then into the box itself, rushing up to Steve as quickly as he could to sling his arms around him.

“I’m…! What’s happening to me?!” Steve screamed, unable to straighten his thoughts.

His own memories were blurring, they were bending, they were leaking and bleeding into one another like the water touched ink on paper.

Tony kept his arms around Steve’s strong frame, trying to keep calm, taking deep breaths to steady himself, he was caught up in Steve’s pain and could practically feel it. With each ear-piercing yell that Steve let out echoing his broken tone Tony felt closer pushed to the brink of tears.

“No, Steve, you’re going to be fine, I said I’d help you right?”

“I don’t know what’s happening to me…” Steve sobbed with a hoarse voice, hating to be this way in front of Tony, knowing for well that he needed to keep the mask up of a strong Captain, but as he had told others in the past; it takes an even stronger man to cry.

It broke Tony’s heart.

He pulled him close and smoothed his metal fingers through Steve’s hair in an attempt to calm him down. He knew Steve loved having his hair touched  and combed through, that’s what he had always noticed whenever he was with someone, including the times that they had spent together on the couch. Steve would sometimes playfully curl one of Tony’s locks around his finger casually, just to tease him about the perm that he once had, but Tony secretly enjoyed it. And from then on he would notice Steve would always play with Sharon’s hair or even Bernie’s a very long time ago. Perhaps him doing the same would trigger a memory that would soothe him. But he did regret that he couldn’t touch him with his own fingers, he couldn’t embrace his soft locks and let them skim across his fingertips until Steve was out of here. It only added to his conviction to find a cure.

“You’ll be okay Steve, we’ll make it through this together.” Tony murmured, pressing his faceplate against Steve’s forehead to calm him down. He noticed Steve’s mouth opening as though he were taking breaths, but it was clear from earlier that he wasn’t really breathing so perhaps it was a reflex he was still conditioned with. He had to tell himself to stop over-analysing it all and just be grateful Steve was there with him.

Tony held him close, fingers trailing down the nape of his neck, down his shoulders and along his shoulder blades.

_He loved him. His dear sweet poor Captain._

Steve made a snappy movement and his hands went to his stomach.

“You hungry big guy?” He whispered, noticing Steve had calmed down.

There was no response. Steve kept his head lowered.

“Steve?” Tony tilted his head. “Come on wing-head, don’t go quiet on me now…”

Another sharp movement. Tony’s systems were displaying the flow of the virus in the corner of his screen, and it seemed fine, the movement looked identical to what it was before.

 He asked again, “Cap..?”

Steve grabbed the large shoulder pieces, his nails scraping against the metal before he shoved Tony with all of his body weight to the ground, staring at him with eyes that Tony could only identify as feral.

Tony landed back with a loud ‘oomph’ and pure shock taking over his body at the amount of force that was thrown into him, able to floor his suit that hit the white tiles beneath him with a heavy clunk. 

Steve snapped his teeth at the man, growling and forcing him down.

“No… Steve! Snap out of it!” Tony panicked, kicking his legs out a little at the man who straddled himself on top of him, scratching and trying break the armour, clearly trying to bend the pieces that were neatly folded over his skin.

Steve continued to snap his teeth, eyes with a resounding emptiness about them.

Panic stricken Tony had no choice, he had to grab his arms and yank him away, trying to throw him back but not with the extreme force he would usually use. He pushed and winced, trying to get Steve off before giving him that very shove and darting toward the door.

Steve scrambled to his feet, displaying his agility from his practices, able to flip himself up from being thrown to the ground with ease. He chased after Tony but the man in armour had managed to reach the first set of doors and then let his armour drop off, the sterilising mist filling the chamber before he was let out of the second, being greeted by a robe which he fumbled on in a hurry. He was scared, absolutely petrified. His entire body was still shaking as he bolted to the window to see Steve throw himself up against it, snapping his teeth a few times, trying to scratch at the window before pulling back with a loud groan.

Tony staggered out, practically falling on the window. His heart was beginning to hurt; a familiar constriction that made him lightheaded from overexertion as it beat rapidly in his chest. A shaky hand rose to pinch the bridge of his nose, Tony sighed and tried to rid himself of the fit of fear that had been building in him only moments before but only managed to exhale shaky breaths. His fingers slid down the screen in front of him before he jumped back at the sudden thud Steve had made with his scratches. He trembled with fear, attempting to try and slow his breathing down for that moment, arms wrapping around himself in dire need of some comfort. It had all happened so quickly, so much so that Tony still had to process what had just happened.

Steve had attacked him?

Tony’s still quivering pupils had to take a moment to fixate on the man that was now huddled up in the corner, looking out of breath, head pressed back against the wall staring at his own hands with disbelief.

It looked as though Steve hadn’t a clue as to what he’d done, or didn’t know how it happened.

Tony tried to shake the image of Steve trying to actually bite him out of his head, closing his eyes just for a moment and trying to think of the few seconds prior to that, at least they were somewhat comforting. He could feel the tears swell, he could feel himself break down and fall to his knees – hitting the metal tiles under him. His wet skin touching the cold, making him shiver, but he was too distraught to even react to that. He had come to the realisation that his friends mind was being destroyed, as if the tests weren’t enough to prove that along with Steve obeying the one prevalent instinct he had; hunger.  

“I’m sorry…”

Tony could hear a whisper from behind the glass, heaving himself up and staring at Steve, watching his lips move to utter those very words over and over.

When Steve had caught a glimpse of the shadow behind the glass he stood and stepped once more to the window pane. “Tony, I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened, I really don’t… I…” He clutched his stomach. “I’m so hungry…”

“You tried to bite me, Steve.” Tony spoke bluntly as a reaction to his shock.

Immediately confused, he stammered. “I, it’s not, I wasn’t… I can’t remember I just… Tony, listen to me. I want you to listen carefully while I’m still of a sound mind.” He pressed his palm to the glass to leave a cold print stain. “If something happens and I’m beyond saving, I want you to do it. I want you to kill me. No one else, you.”

“How am I supposed to do that Steve? Don’t you dare, don’t you dare ask me to do such a thing!” He shouted, pointing at the glass with a quivering index finger, his entire body unable to stay still. He could feel his heart beating quicker and quicker as rage began to overcome the sadness. “Not after that, not again!”

“I need you to do it, because if anyone is, I want it to be you.”

“You have no idea what you’re god damn saying, you’ve gone nuts!” Tony barked in denial. “Besides…” His tone lowered to a more sombre choice. “I’m not going to let that happen, I’ll fix you, remember I promised?”

As much as Steve wanted to have faith in the man that he held his heart out to, he realised after a few days that the entire situation was becoming bleak, and perhaps there was no way to recover. He had though that he was getting better all this time but actually seeing what he had become began to trigger more inside him, he could feel himself changing, he could feel his memories fading one by one.

“It’s just a last choice, my last wish.”

“You make it sound like you’re dying.” Tony chuckled sadly. “When actually you’re coming back to life from being dead, surely that shouldn’t count as a last wish then? On a technicality?”

Tony wanted Steve to smile at that, at least let out a small chuckle but he didn’t even spot so much as a flick of the corner of his lips. The man was dead set on getting Tony to pull the trigger.

“I’m not going to make that promise, Steve.” He said forthright. “Because I’m going to fix you.”

“Tony…” Steve said in that voice that would always make Tony take the submissive corner. It sounded more like a disappointed parent calling the name of their child after they’d done something horrible.

“Not buying it Steve, I’m not going to do it, I’m going to fix you.”

Steve groaned, trying to ignore the pain in his stomach again, but this time the wince was a clear as day to Tony.

“I’ll get you something, some meat, anything, I’ll fix you.”

Even Tony’s words seemed hollow at this point to a man that had resigned himself to his fate, lost in profound confusion.


	12. 8 Days, 3 hours, 18 minutes, 22 seconds

“How is he?”

“He’s getting worse…”

Not exactly the sentence that Tony wanted to be greeted with after spending all of his time doing work, and finally being able to catch up on some shut eye (all be it to the aid of a couple of pills that he was given), nonetheless, he had managed to rest for a short while but that didn’t allow his guilty conscience to rest once.

“Did you repair the glass?”

“Yes, we’ve managed to repair it. Luckily, the fracture was vacuum sealed by one of your bots. The AI behaved quite intelligently…I must admit, I am very impressed, Tony.” Reed complimented the man…a compliment that was needed, for Tony looked utterly forlorn. A beard ran wild and untamed, dark red circles hung under his eyes, and he even looked much paler in skin tone and thinner. Reed would’ve assumed by first glance that Tony was the one that was sick, not Steve. After numerous checks - particularly after the first incident, Tony was seemingly as fit as a fiddle.

He could still, a long while after, feel the heavy weight resting on his shoulders. He could’ve sworn that there was an increasing amount of knots forming along the back of his neck at that time. Prickles and chills coursed along his skin as he forced himself to stare into the window.

Soon his vision focused on the other man who sat in the corner of the quarantine room. His clothing was torn; the blue t-shirt with a once white star was now tainted with red and grey. The torn trousers were now worn at the knees, the dog tags hung around his neck. Everything was utterly in shambles. Steve’s body twitched as though he were flinching at the constant pains his body was going through with the changes. His pale eyes even more sunken in with his cheekbones and jaw appeared far more angular and protruded ominously. Dark black varicose veins threaded throughout the plains of Steve’s once glowing skin to make it look much more lifeless than Tony had ever seen him.

“I’m so… hungry…”  The very same whisper had been echoing through that confinement chamber since the attack. It haunted Tony’s sleeping state now...

“Fight it, Steve.” Tony had said this the first time, and said that over and over, using the super soldier’s own words to help him. Over the course of that day, the deterioration of Steve’s mental functions accelerated. Tony had glanced over the monitors; T’Challa arrived and concluded that that Steve was returning to his primary and basic function. His mind may have not been as developed as it was, but one thing it knew it wanted was to sustain itself. The basic survival instinct, hunger, was amplified a hundredfold. Although it seemed as though Steve’s body didn’t need food in order to survive due to the lack of functioning within his organs, as the soldier having been reduced to the sort of walking dead who clearly shouldn’t have been able to function in the _first_ place, his mind was telling him that he needed to eat. Now, Tony was so beaten down and mentally exhausted that he found himself unable to power on with the words of hope and optimism to keep fighting. In fact, that had strangely increased his respect for Steve, his being able to deliver words of hope in the darkest situations. As much as Tony had taken those for granted, now he realised how difficult it was to fill Steve’s shoes. Despite the horror that Steve’s waking moments had become…Tony still loved him.

The first attack had rattled Tony to the extent where he just _didn’t_ want to hear about any further developments in terms of Steve’s status. Yes, he’d keep an eye on him…but now the changes were too obvious. The Steve in confinement was clearly becoming a different Steve…a different sort of Steve than the one Tony’s heard yearned to have back.  The day after the attack, Tony had watched when Reed allowed food to enter the room. Steve had lunged at it and tore it apart with his teeth, as though it were a living animal. The hunter’s instincts were taking hold; Reed was fascinated by the way that Steve acted and how much it contrasted with his regular behaviour.

Tony was just so _tired_. “How’s he gotten worse, though…?” Tony asked.

“He’s become less responsive, more of a recluse. And… He tends to perform a couple of stunts.”

“Stunts?”— There was a loud thud and both of Steve’s heavy hands smacked up against the wall, scratching at it. Tony jumped back, feeling his heart stop for one second. “—holy shit!”

Reed spoke while keeping his head down, scribbling notes on a pad, completely un-phased. “Like that.”

Tony’s teeth chattered with fear, mumbling over and over in an attempt to veil how frightened he was at the sight of the man clawing at the newly repaired glass. He was scratching with fingernails that had been grated down from constant friction to pulps, black ooze spilling down the screen to trail each scratch and pound against the wall of separation. He stood with his shoulders raised, arm again instinctively returning to hold his side. “Why’s he doing that? He know it’s us on the other side…”

“He clearly wants to get out.” Reed murmured darkly.

“Can we not let him, maybe it’ll help?”

Reed sighed, his elongated fingers tapping at his temple as a force of habit, the other hand spread and held up by his shoulder with disbelief at what he was hearing. “Tony, is your mind going too? It’s a _contagion_ … You know that, I shouldn’t have to reiterate. It’s re-writing _him_ , and you want to risk exposing that to the world?”

Tony shook his head. “I was just thinking maybe fresh air might help.” His voice was a husky whisper.

Reed met his eyes solidly, silencing whatever line of thought Tony had in mind. “Would you expose such a disease to the outside world?” He asked with a devastating note ringing in his words, almost offended that he dare suggest such a thing. There was a part of him that did wonder if Tony was truly cracking under the pressure of it all,  not that Reed would entirely blame him for doing so.

Tony fell silent like a child that had just been told off. “No…”

Reed stretched his left hand over to squeeze Tony’s shoulder once more, feeling how very tight the muscles were at that moment. “You need to use your head, my friend. I know this is the worst situation to be in, but maybe you need to spend time out there yourself. Perhaps some time with Rhodey?”

Tony shook his head. “He’s been there for me all this time, he’s been carrying my weight on his shoulders for so long. I went to go and see him just before I came down here, actually. It helped clear my mind just a little. I don’t know where I’d be without him… He’s helping up top, keeping things in order. You know he’s better at organising the troops than I am. I think it’s an armed forces sort of gist, they’re so used to that, the others.”

“T-tony…”

There was one other person here who could make Tony silence himself mid-sentence. He pivoted on the heel of his foot to see Steve with his hands still pressed against the wall. His eyes looked tamer, they looked still, for a moment he looked like who he used to be.

He could stare into those eyes for an eternity.

“Steve?” Tony made a cautious tread closer to the glass, realising that Reed must’ve left the two way function activated. “Steve, how are you?” That was a stupid question and Tony cursed himself for asking it.

Steve made the motion as though he was breathing, his shoulders raised and slumped accordingly but Tony knew not a breath was escaping those cherry red lips.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me.” He replied.

Reed was close-by, having not heard the soldier respond until now. His eyes lifted from his notepad and he stared over Tony’s shoulder, resisting the urge to stretch his neck for a closer examination, but even he knew that would probably receive a slap in the face from Tony.

 There it was again, that nervous bite back on his teeth that would make his jaw clench and cheek bones rise. That was Steve’s nervous tick and Tony could spot it every time.

“There’s something inside me Tony.” He whispered to the screen, lowering his head a fraction to count for that inch difference in height.

“There is?” Tony asked with curiosity, even though he knew that there was, something was changing him; that virus.

“And… It’s…”

Tony was drawn closer to the glass like a moth to a flame.

“It’s what?”

“It’s telling me to… rip out your throat with my teeth.”

Tony quickly staggered back and away from the screen while Steve looked up at him, sorrowfully, eyes full of pain and guilt for even so much as admitting such a thing. “I don’t want to listen to it, I’m trying not to, I’m fighting it, for you.”

_I want to claw at your skin with my bare hands._

_I want my nails to rip into you, dig into your muscles._

_I want to feel your breath against my skin._

_I want to bite into your beating heart and feel it pulse in my mouth._

_I want **you**.  _

Tony’s hands ran over his throat, just smoothing over the bump of his Adams Apple where he felt a huge gulp that must have sounded obnoxiously loud. Reeds hand reached to press his palm against Tony’s back, holding him, preventing him from falling back further.

Then he could feel it again. As though he couldn’t fall further into the pit of despair, he could feel the world crumble beneath him, falling further and further into sadness and sorrow, regret and remorse.

He couldn’t take this.

The invincible Iron Man was breaking.

“Tony… Tony wait.” Steve called.

“I have to go.”

“Tony..!” Steve hit the glass. “Tony wait!”

“I can’t do this.” Tony bolted for the door, actually running toward it, long lab-coat fluttering behind him as he tossed it off just before running through the iron-clad doors.

“Tony!” Steve yelled loudly, punching at the glass. Reed made the screen one sided again, which only made the super soldier pound harder, blindly, calling out for his saviour.

_Please save me._


	13. 12 Days, 2 hours, 10 minutes, 10 seconds

It was getting worse.

From loud wailing and pounding on the screen to scratching and tearing at the walls. A super soldier with a deadly virus infecting him made him into a creature that had yet to be categorised properly by the others. While rigor mortis was taking effect and causing Steve to walk with an awkward posture, he was still alive, somehow.

The way he moved was something that Tony couldn’t get out of his head, the way he stared with eyes that looked so dark set. Whenever Steve snapped and chattered his teeth, making deep guttural groans from the back of his throat, Tony would back away from the screen. For a man who couldn’t get his eyes off Steve at the start, now it hurt even more to turn his head and take that passing glance at the shadow of the man.

Every time he heard so much as a whisper escape Steve’s mouth he would remember the words that he said and would attempt to stop his eyes from tearing up again. He felt like a child again, scared and alone, wishing his hero was there to shield him from the pains and sufferings of everyday life.

Steve didn’t talk very much. What he would do was pace the containment chamber that he was in, his head slightly tilted to a side with jolty movements. He would jump on the meat as he had done before. There were wounds around his knuckles from where he was constantly either punching the wall, broken mirror which they had decided to not replace, and the visual screen. Those wounds seeped with black, the skin pulling back over the bones to reveal the sharp edges of the knuckle bones protruding from his broken flesh. From a dry scratching tone of voice that he once spoke with, it had further broken down to dry growls instead. He wouldn’t even form words any longer, he would just stand in silence which was far more eerie than the dark words that had escaped. The speed of the virus was quickening.

Tony wanted to think that throughout the ordeal his courage would never waver, and that he would remain strong and sturdy as a force of dependability. As the condition of his beloved worsened, so did his courageous heart… Sometimes Tony contemplated things; dark things. Sometimes he thought of holding a repulsor to his head and firing it and wishing that this would all be over – every day he endured of this agony was pushing him further and further to the edge.

Yet he just remembered Steve’s words before he thought of acting on those dark thoughts. It should never be an option…only those words would prevent Tony from taking that plunge.

Sometimes at night, even when Tony would retire to his own quarters, he could hear the haunting screams from the facility. It was highly secured, reinforced by steel; it was impossible for any sound to escape… Yet the raspy shrill shrieks would wake Tony up time and again. He could feel the pain that Steve was going through.

Now, Tony thought of how he _hated_ that he shared that connection with Steve after years of fighting at his side.

…

He distracted himself by trying to repair some of the bots that Steve had trashed when they’d gone in to perform maintenance checks and procedures (apparently he certainly _didn’t_ like to be disturbed). Tony began meticulously piecing the broken shards together that, ironically, were collected by other helper-bots he’d sent in there. Steve’s rage was petrifying to witness, but seeing it amplify was even more mind-numbingly frightening. Now, Tony found it impossible to ignore the accelerating decay of Steve’s higher functions. His tolerance was at a point so low that he would simply attack anything that walked in there. He would break the few facilities they had, and the punching bag that was once held up by a metal tether was now in pieces on the ground. Tony tried to keep his head down and ignore the loud thumps that he’d grown accustomed to.

T’Challa and Hank were working while Reed was taking a little time away from the labs (as per an agreement with Sue). They both were talking amongst themselves. It had been a long time coming; a conclusion to this all.

“Tony.” There it was, that dreaded powerful tone T’Challa could use, strong enough to command a country. Then again, Tony knew the real reason that he was so invested was because he didn’t want the strain of whatever Steve had to spread to his own lands.

Tony spun on his chair to glance over at the man. “As you may have noticed, the Captain is becoming much more aggressive—“

“—No, you don’t think?” Tony reached just behind him and held up two of the broken pieces he was working on.

“Sarcasm is unnecessary. However, our solution at this time, the best course of action would be to sedate him.”

Tony hated that word; **sedate**. It was one of the words that people used too often whenever there was anything that they needed to poke and prod. He scowled at it, rolling his jaw – mimicking Steve’s action of frustration. “Sedation until we find a cure entirely, it may help with his outbursts of rage. He doesn’t sleep, so perhaps easing the irritation of unrest…” Hank proposed.

“Save me the jargon.” Tony was starting to sound more like Steve every day. Perhaps imitation really was the sincerest form of flattery. “You realise tranquilisers won’t last long on Steve, and I’m not too keen on trying to knock him out using magic either. There’s no reason to call Strange into this. I called him as a consultant, and he hasn’t even been able to find a cure by magic. All he told me was that it was a ‘curse’ and that he had to go. Calling him to knock Steve out isn’t really an option, and it’s _not_ something I want to consider.”

“We’ve created something Tony.” Hank spoke soberly. “Reed theorized a formula that should help incapacitate him, even as he is. It’s more than enough to knock _me_ out, yet alone him. This did a number on the Juggernaut a long time ago, and now it’s been refined.” Hank implored Tony to consider, gesturing over to the vial that was just perched on top of a Bunsen burner; the gentle blue flame danced beneath it to cause small bubbles to rise from the top. “Once that’s settled in, it may delay the decay that’s occurring in the Captain’s brain. At minimum, it should freeze the physical destruction that that the lesions on his skin are inflicting to the surrounding tissue.”

Tony sighed for a moment. He regarded Steve, observing the sluggish movements and hearing the dark groans that persisted. “When we _sedate_ him,” allowing the word to trickle off his tongue was enough to make him shudder, “We’ll continue our research at the same pace we’ve been doing. That should buy us more time, right?”

“That’s right. We’ll be able to do as much work as we need to in the time that we need to.” T’Challa spoke.

Tony’s eyes focused on his friend, feeling his heart sink when he nodded in consent. “We’ll inject him this afternoon.” He met both of their eyes, one after the other. “You both make certain the sedative is completely ready and inserted into one of the bots I’m going to send in. I’ve had to make them more… _resilient_ of late.”

“You have our word, Tony.” Hank murmured with a respectful nod.

“It will be done.” T’Challa bowed his head.

For Tony, it felt as though he was stepping in the shoes of being Director of SHIELD again. He even stood with both arms behind his back as he had to whenever he’d given orders. That had been a stressful job (to say the least) and there was a reason that he couldn’t handle it very long. Combined with the bad memories and his disagreements with other members of the faculty, the stress and weight that rested on his shoulders was far too much for Tony Stark to handle.

He had just hoped that his decision was the right one. Both then…and almost certainly now.


	14. 12 Days, 9 hours, 9 minutes, 23 seconds

Everything was set up and in place within the next few hours. The others had been working hard on finding the correct chemical composition that would be compatible with Steve’s system, while Tony worked on a new bot to administer the new sedative. Once the elaborate set up was complete, Tony kept his eyes on the man labelled ‘patient zero’ by the systems that Reed had programmed.

Such a cold name; Patient Zero. It dehumanised Steve to little but a lab specimen. Although the others had lectured Tony time and time again about detachment to people that they were working with, they all knew that it was impossible for Tony to pull himself away from his childhood hero like that. It was as though he were talking to a brick wall.

Tony stared at each second that ticked down. With each moment that passed, as the bot reeling itself in and Steve lunging at it. Luckily Tony had anticipated such a reaction, and the first bot was a dummy, the second rolled itself through the decontamination doors. This was the moment that he bit his lower lip with pure nerves, his hand returning to clasp the bottom on his chin as he maintained the same perplexed stare while the second bot scooted around Steve just as planned. T’Challa and Hank stood just behind Tony, both with their arms folded watching every small jerk that Steve was making, observing with intense scrutiny.

The clanks of metal flooded the small quarantine room, large thuds and growls as Steve snapped at the bar, his once perfect teeth chipping away to reveal a more jagged edge each time he attempted to chomp at the metal beams that composed the first bot. Tony cringed with each loud screech of metal rubbing against the bone.

While Steve was content with the first bot, the second had finally made its way around it when it loomed over Steve who was crouched over the fallen metal frame. This was the moment that Tony began to grind his back teeth nervously, if it didn’t work he’d have to build a new bot. Having to do that would cost time that the treatment team simply didn’t have. It slid the top bar forward with a minute click. Tony knew that sound attracted Steve, like an animal, so he had to make the movements of the second as quiet as possible. At this point Tony could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Even a pin drop could be heard like a loud bell-ring to Tony at that second in time. When the top bar slid open, the hatch was revealed, and the syringe slowly lifted from it.

The sharp tip of the syringe needle caught the light and just as Steve heard a small buzzing sound and turned around, the needle was planted through the tattered fabric of his blue shirt, into his skin at the base of his spine.  Steve let out a shriek like no other, a high pitched yell fused with a scream as the syringe pushed more liquid into his system. Quickly with cat-like reflexes he spun around on his ball of his heel, swinging his foot around and kicking the bot into the wall until it smashed. But he didn’t leave it there, he walked over to it and kicked it again and again with fury, yelling incoherently at the bot; there were no words, just grunts and growls. Tony while stood on the other side of the glass uncontrollably flinched just by reflex each time his bots were thrown and beaten like that.

Steve paced slowly after his bitter win over the two fallen robots. Both lay in heaps of metal scraps, now scattered over the floor. Tony could feel the tension that the two men behind him were projecting; it was a nail-biting moment, especially since Hank had sounded _extremely_ confident about his sedative being able to work on Steve for prolonged periods of time.

Steve lurched around the quarantine room and Tony made careful observations and notes at how his moves were slowing down. He tried to swallow his high hopes of this working to avoid the painful disappointment that he had felt and faced within the last few days, _mainly in himself_. Then, as Tony’s attention began to dwindle to his own expectations and linger on how much he had failed within that period, he heard a loud thump which snapped him out of those thoughts in an instant. Steve had collapsed face down, motionless with his eyes closed. It had been the first time in days that Tony had actually seen him with his eyes closed...and completely insensate. There was a feeling of relief that washed over him; seeing Steve relaxed was an accomplishment all in its own. Yes, it was minor, but still a small step towards finding the cure towards whatever hell Zola had inflicted on him.

The others observed any changes in Steve’s brain activity with great caution. Once it was clear on the monitors that Steve’s brain activity had slipped to resemble that of someone in a coma, they settled down. Although they did register that Steve’s brain activity patterns were already abnormal before the injection, they had just been settled to a point that there was very minimal synapse activity, even more minimal than before…which would indicate that he was sedated. Steve lay still, his skin absurdly pale, dark veins patterning along his exposed skin. If anything, he looked like Snow White after she had bitten into the poison apple, with his beauty preserved behind that pane of glass. Tony trailed his fingers along Steve’s profile shamelessly, tracing how sharp it was when he was laying there on the ground. But he quickly realised that he couldn’t just leave Steve there; he sent in two more bots to reel in a steel bed. Carefully they both lifted the super soldier up, staggering a little with his weight and muscle mass, but they managed to raise him to place him on that table. Tony knew that the very table he was placed on looked more like a morgue table with the body placed on top of it, just waiting to be reeled into one of the many cases for a post-mortem. However, with the minimal brain activity still on screen, it was clear that Steve wasn’t alive…nor was he dead.

“Now what?” Tony asked in a low voice, eyes fixed on the man before him.

Hank then took a moment to reply, his nails tugging at a tuft of blue fur from his chin. “Now we find a cure, perform a couple of MRI’s and so on, so forth.”

“So just continue what we’ve been doing all this time?” Tony confirmed.

“I’m afraid so, but at least now the Captain can rest, and is fully sedated.”

“We’ve induced him into more than just the regular sedation, it should last a couple of days, if not a week.”

Tony knew exactly what they had done and even though it was for Steve’s own good, there was a part of him that was just considerably overwhelmed with guilt for knocking him out like that. It looked as though they had just thawed him out from the ice again, the way he was resting on that table with others staring at him. It sent an unmistakable and resounding sense of déjà vu coursing through his entire system. Throwing a man that had rested for 70 years back into a coma and induced sleep for further scientific testing was a hollow experience for Tony. Slowly he exhaled yet another sigh of overexertion, oozing pure heartbreak. His hand brushed up over his chest and clutched his aching heart while his eyes stilled upon the profile of the sleeping beauty before him. It even hurt to _breathe_.

“Let’s just find the cure as soon as we can.”

“Now that he’s sedated we can actually go in there and collect samples, it’ll make work easier. The only samples we have are when the virus had first started attacking, now that the virus has fully evolved we can work on an antibiotic of some sort.”

Every single word just went over Tony’s head, not because he misunderstood it, but because he had a single strand of hope that was just about ready to snap. The tips of his index fingers trailed and attempted to smooth out the bags under his eyes, but as soon as the tug stopped they returned, darker than ever under his dark sapphire blues. The cold desperation in his eyes was beginning to shine.

“Yeah.”

No witty comeback, not an addition. He had just lost every ounce of fight in him.

He just wanted Steve back to normal.


	15. 16 Days, 14 hours, 7 minutes, 20 seconds

Four days and he hadn’t moved an inch. He lay as still as a porcelain doll resting on a counter. The others had gone in with biohazard suits as per the norm and extracted samples, taking turns to do so. It was much easier doing extractions by hand as opposed to sending bots in there. One thing Tony wouldn’t stand for was Steve being carved up like a Christmas turkey, he refused to let them to do so. Therefore, there were only small extractions that took place in front of Tony.

The voices in his head weren’t getting any quieter, despite the calm state his Captain was in. The constant ringing and yelling, the pleas for help, the unrelenting weight of blame that he had carried from the day that he had returned home with Steve was getting heavier and heavier.

It was Tony’s turn to collect the samples that the others needed. He looked behind him at the empty lab and sighed, realising that they had been taking turns to observe Steve. It turned out that staring at a man that was lying still meant time passed far slower in comparison to when Steve was awake. It was a regular procedure, he would just go in and take some of his blood and check him out.

He suited up straight away in his anti-contamination suit, priding himself on how great it looked compared to the biohazard suits the others would enter the room in. Carefully the armour locked into place, clicking and sliding until it was all secure. The faceplate was the final piece to slip on over the shell of the helmet, making a loud clank as it firmly secured itself over Tony’s tired eyes. Within moments he could see through the tinted lenses; they added a cyan hue to everything that he could see. Stepping through the first chamber and then into the main room, he finally stepped up to Steve. This wasn’t the first time he had walked in to examine him, of course he was there with the others. Although the first attack haunted his mind he reminded himself time and time again that now that Steve was sedated he couldn’t move, he wasn’t awake, he was barely conscious – he was comatose. 

Tony treaded carefully toward the man on the metal table. Slowly he loomed over him and stared down at his pale complexion and peaceful expression. Tony had spent some time cleaning Steve up, getting rid of any of the dark blood smudges that were over his face and fingers; he had even gone to the extent of cleaning his nails. Tony had his fair share of manicures back in the day but never did he think that he would be sitting down by Steve’s side in a suit cleaning his nails to make him look a little more human than he appeared to be. It was like treating and looking after a doll, a doll that Tony had admired for so long – after all, he used to care for his own figurines of Captain America in the same way as a child, with the utmost care and consideration.

He trailed his gauntlet covered hand over Steve’s chest, just over the star of his shirt. He wished for that second that he could feel the soft movements of his chest again, the ones Steve would make whenever he would breathe the same soft huffs and rise and fall of his chest that would put him to sleep.  He wished to feel the warmth of Steve’s skin, the smooth texture, the feeling of his golden soft hair that resembled the touch of feathers between his own fingers. Tony bit down on his lower lip. Perhaps he wasn’t thinking straight, perhaps the depression, anxiety and stress was finally getting to his head but he just wanted to obey that yearning, have something to himself just for once. It wasn’t selfish to want to feel the man he loved just once more.

After a moment of thought he reached up for his helmet, ignoring the warnings as he lifted it completely, placing it down. The stench of rancid rotting flesh flooded his nostrils and caused him to cough, turning away and placing his hand over his mouth to stop himself from gagging. Still he felt himself heave and cough repeatedly until he was able to adapt to the smell, overcoming it and turning once again to face Steve. The cold hit his skin and made him shudder, commanding his suit internally to heat up a bit. Slowly but surely he eased off one gauntlet so he could get what he desired; the one (last) touch.

His hand hovered for a moment just above Steve before tentatively moving in to touch the corner of his strong jaw. He felt a sigh of relief escape his lips the moment he managed to, and then slowly trailed his hand along the square of the man’s jaw, all to receive no reaction from Steve at all. Again he chewed at the corner of his lips, index finger skimming along the Captain’s neck, coursing past his Adams apple and then back up to the other side of his jaw. There was no such structure as perfect as he, the angel that lay lifeless on the desk.

His fingertips were close to touching his eyes, but instead delicately brushed past his beautifully fanned out eyelashes. Then his eyes caught those lips, those perfectly shaped lips that he had yearned to feel against his own for years since their first encounter. The taste of them still remained in his dreams after having to give him CPR back during the Red Zone fiasco. They looked just as dry that moment as they did back then, small cracks in the skin, beautiful imperfections. That was the thing about Tony – he had fallen in love with Steve not for his perfections, but all of his imperfections. That was the moment that he **knew** he was in love with him.

_Just one last kiss._

His breathing quickened, his body felt numb but he knew that he had to do it. This was the only chance he had if Steve’s condition continued to worsen.

_Just **one** kiss. _

He closed his eyes and shed his nerves, leaning down and touching his lips against Steve’s.

And then he kissed him…


	16. 16 Days, 16 hours, 16 minutes, 16 seconds

Tony’s heart felt as though it was in the clouds, he could feel and taste that same taste that remained on Steve’s lips despite his condition. It was absolutely wonderful, a beautiful feeling, a feeling of happiness that he wanted to cherish for the rest of his life. He could feel a tear welling up in his tear duct as he continued to kiss the super solider.

Love, passion, desperation all melded into that one moment as he poured everything he could into that lock of lips.

“ _I love you_.” He thought under the kiss. “ _I always will Steve_.”

The tear rolled down his cheek onto Steve’s, reaching his hand up to clutch the side of his face, shaking with emotion. His body trembled but still he didn’t move he just needed this more than anything else in the world; he needed Steve.

For a second he could’ve sworn he felt Steve move, but he knew that he was still under the coma, perhaps it was wishful thinking. He pulled his lips back, but remained not even an inch away, huffing with relief, smiling for the first time in days.

It felt like all the muscles in his face had forgotten how to smile. Even though his eyes were shut, he smiled.

He brushed his lips against Steve’s. “I knew I’d be fine…” He whispered.

He could feel a shiver down his spine and brushed it off as the after effects of the release of emotion,  then he felt it again, a touch to his back. His eyes fluttered open slowly, turning around very carefully as he spotted Steve’s arm, curved around him. Panic washed over the blissfull feeling and he stared at Steve, who still had his eyes shut.

“Steve…?”

Then there was movement. He could see something under his eyes move before those surreal blue eyes stared back at him.

“T… To-ny…”

“Steve? You can, you can hear me?” That was the first time he had heard the soldiers voice speaking normal words in days. “Steve?”

Steve slowly reached up. “To-ny…”

_Could he be recovering?_

_Is that injection, could it have helped?_

_Was rest all he needed?_

Tony’s body was entirely numb, and he felt Steve rising closer, again only inches away from his lips.

“To-ny…” Steve whispered, giving him the smallest of smiles and tilting his head ever so slightly.

“You’re okay, aren’t you. You’re okay… You know who I am, Steve, you’re getting better!” He almost yelled.

True loves kiss wasn’t a cure he had thought of in the past but it seemed to have worked.

Tony’s hand cupped the side of Steve’s face. “Beloved, you’re going to get better…”

Steve lurched closer and mouthed something, tilting his head more, as though he were leaning in for a kiss. At first Tony was shocked, pleasantly surprised, but again overwhelmed. He desperately complied, pressing his lips once more to the cold ones before him, closing his eyes and holding himself to Steve.

_He’s better._

_He loves me._

_That’s all that matters…_

**_He loves me_**.

Steve’s body twitched and he pushed himself into the kiss. Tony made a small murmur beneath it with surprise, and then he felt a sharp pain along his lip. Flinching a little he tried to pull back, but Steve grabbed the back of his head and kept him in place. Tony made another sound of discomfort.

What did Steve mouth before they had kissed?

_I’m…_

_I’m sorry?_

Tony’s eyes widened sharply and he placed both hands on Steve’s chest, trying to push himself away as he felt teeth sinking into his lips, tugging at the flesh before one final bite and—

He screamed out, kicking himself back and falling back, clutching his face. His lips were bleeding and torn and Steve had blood stains all over his mouth, slowly rolling off the table to all fours before crawling over to Tony, reaching out for him.

Tony yelled out, trying to call the other bots to his aid but also trying to deal with the pain of having had his bottom lip ripped off. He backed to a corner as Steve crawled closer, grabbing Tony and pinning him down with powerful strength before biting hard into his exposed neck.

To Steve the flesh had never tasted so good, it was beautifully scented, so well maintained, soft and luxurious like velvet on his tongue. Flavours and sensations danced in his mouth, craving for more of the perfect taste like no other he had eaten before. Internally he screamed and pleaded himself to stop, but he wasn’t in control anymore and he knew it. He sucked at the rich and thick crimson, the meat being ripped away in shreds from Tony’s neck caught between the jagged ends of Steve’s canines.

Tony yelled, he cried and pleaded Steve to stop, finally getting enough strength to hold up one of his charging repulsors  (again, this was a bio-suit, it wasn’t made for attacking so his weaponry took a while to charge) and fired at Steve to scare him off, taking that gap and running through the first set of doors.

INFECTION DETECTED

POSSIBLE CONTAMINATION

QUARANTINE PROTOCOL ACTIVATED

The computers blared out.

“Retinal override!!” Tony screamed out, smacking the door with his fist. “Quickly!”

OVERIDE PROTOCOL: USER: ANTHONY E STARK.

STATUS: POSSIBLE INFECTION. QUARANTINE PROTOCOL MAINTAINED.

“No, no no no!” Tony yelled, clutching his jaw sporadically moving from his neck to his lip with his other hand before letting out a yell of frustration, spotting Steve trying to get through and break the handle of the door just behind him. He held up his hand and fired a repulsor, shattering the door in front of him and tumbling out. He was bleeding badly, his jugular had been punctured and he knew that he couldn’t last long. He had ended up on his knees, trying to craw and cry for help, his bots coming to his aid with first aid kits, even Extremis trying to work by covering him with an undersuit to try and heal him in a cocoon. His blood began to change in colour as black colouring danced along the exposed wound, slowly changing it, even changing the texture of the coagulated blood into a thick mess.

He had remembered a small exhort from Reeds research, a possible theory; super soldier serum could have been the catalyst, and Tony remembered that Extremis’ basis was… The super soldier serum.

Tony could feel something entering his system, he could feel his blood becoming thicker as he coughed and spluttered out drops of black ooze.

QUARANTINE BREACH

He just wanted the noises and blaring alarms to stop, his head was pounding as it was, he didn’t need JARVIS to continue shouting at him and making his health worse.

“O-over-ride… Shut down protocol.”

SYSTEM SHUTTING DOWN

Tony coughed up a pool of black liquid, collapsing to the ground with his cheek pressed against the cold metal tiles, a coppery taste filling his lungs.

Is this what death felt like?

No pearly gates or bright light, just an abyss of darkness and the disgusting taste of metal. As he looked up he could see Steve standing at that door trying to get out, but not just Steve, he could see this beautiful pristine man standing there dressed all in white, with beams of light shining behind him as though he really were an angel, an angel trapped in that room.

“Steve…”

 “I’m sorry Tony…” He could hear in the most angelic melody.

He smiled at the words. “You’ll be okay… Steve… I told you… I promised…” Tony raised his hand, with his last ounce of strength he used Extremis to open the door, before his hand fell and his entire body felt like nothing at all.

He felt free.


	17. 16 Days, 20 hours, 19 minutes, 10 seconds

Just as the sensation of freedom was something he was becoming accustomed to he found himself falling, falling further and further and then heard a crash. He groaned, eyes stiffly opening to a blurry haze. He could’ve sworn he saw red white and blue dart across the room and tackle a black silhouette to the ground.

He groaned again, clutching his stomach as a pain seared throughout his body originating from his abdomen. Tony tried to scramble to his feet, apparently he wasn’t dead, but it took a lot of effort to get himself up. His entire body was stiff, and he couldn’t quite straighten out his neck. Thoughts and memories seemed to blur, everything was like he had just woken up from a dream of some sort.

Then he could smell it; a wonderful smell, like a freshly cooked steak.

Tony couldn’t gather his thoughts and sort them; instead all he could think about was how hungry he was and how good that smell was too.

He limped toward the aroma and then spotted him; Reed was on the ground with chunks of flesh bitten out of him. And yet, instead of feeling sick as he would have normally given the sight, Tony knelt down and sniffed. The smell was coming from him, from his neck, from the red blood that seeped from the gaping raw wounds. Tony licked his lips, or what was left of his bottom lip, and then scooped some of the blood up using his index finger. Again he sniffed at it then cautiously licked the blood. As he did his taste-buds lit up, he could feel himself filling with life again he could feel his hunger intensify after being teased. Slowly he craned closer, menacingly. He found that his impulses were taking over and he licked at Reeds neck, the cold flesh still warmer than his own. He didn’t want to do this, he didn’t want to swoop in like a vulture, but the voices in his head were spurring him on. Tony had given in to the voices in his mind before, he wasn’t as strong willed as others made him out to be. Far from invincible, now overwhelmed with grief from his constant failures particularly in the relationship department and displaying signs of depression – the Tony Stark that used to sing on his way to work was long gone in recent times. That made his mind weak and susceptible to the demons inside him. The darkness that engulfed the room helped shadow Reed’s face…at least that made him feel less guilty as he bent down and tugged at some of the exposed tendons with his fingertips. His hands were shaking with shock as he pulled out a small piece of flesh, biting into it, to his own surprise and actually enjoying the taste. He went for more as he tried to satisfy the hunger that he couldn’t handle. The empty pit in his stomach needed to be filled and satisfied and yet the more he ate, the more he needed. He stopped using his hands after some time and began just biting into Reed’s flesh with his teeth, ravenously swallowing and chewing until blood covered his upper body and face. It was difficult to keep food in his mouth with a lack of bottom lip – chunks would fly out as he yanked the meat from the bone, slippery blood covered meat and now exposed organs fallen from the open chest cavity. Tony wasn’t afraid to break the ribs that obstructed him (so much for those lessons on dinner etiquette that his father had paid hundreds for) and managed to pull out some of the organs, without hesitation he bit into them and watched as they spilled more bodily fluids. Tony feasted like no other, enjoying each different taste and texture, feeling no other emotion than hunger as though his brain filtered out any remorse.

Once he was done he pushed himself up from the floor, dragging his feet and letting his blood coated hands fall, trailing blood behind him as he walked around trying to sniff out more food. That’s when he spotted him; Steve was hunched over a mangled body that he couldn’t even identify. The soldier had really gone all out on him, smashing his head in completely. It was only the ID that lay strewn to one side with some tattered fabric that gave the identity of the man away – the mangled cape made Tony’s already paling eyes widen sharply. How Steve had managed to take down Doctor Strange was a question all in its own – probably an ambush, knowing the tactician. There were tentacles probably from defence laying around, but it had seemed that Steve had managed to take down a man with power of an epic proportion. He had achieved the impossible, _somehow_.  As much as Tony wanted to question him and ask him how he did that he could feel the rumble in his stomach intensify. Bypassing the interrogation Tony stepped up beside Steve, and tilted his head, trying to speak but only a mishmash of groans escaping his oesophagus. Steve seemed to understand him though, dipping his already hunched posture down and grabbing something from under the broken ribs of the corpse. With a powerful tug he yanked it out – arteries that were attached to it spilling crimson splatters all over the floor. Carefully Steve cupped what he held in his hands and held it out to Tony, tilting his head in response. The living-dead-engineers eyes fell to what Steve held; a heart, he was offering him the heart of his kill. He didn’t know why he found that sweet, endearing and even romantic. The quick corruption of the virus (fuelled by Steve’s super solider serum and Tony’s which acted as a catalyst, hence the quick infection) had warped Tony’s brain during his brief time being ‘dead’. Tony reached for it, grabbing the still warm organ in his own hands and then sinking his teeth into it. It was juicy, like biting into a fresh strawberry, strewn with flavours that he had never tasted before, possibly the best meal he had ever had. Tony ate the heart with considerable care, with Steve staring at him the entire time. He was said to have had minimal brain function, to give in to hunger, but Tony now knew first hand that there was more of a thought pattern and one other remaining emotion asides from the need to eat and constant hunger and emptiness – love. Tony made a chuffing noise when he had finished, with Steve stepping up to him and growling face to face, but it was a strange growl, a happy growl if that were even possible.

Then he gestured to the rest of the fallen bodies that were littered around the dark lab. They were all picked of flesh, some bitten all over, lifeless. It seemed that a serum of some sort needed to be present for this virus to spread as Reed had first hypothesised -- perhaps far too late.

They needed to get out of the room and feed together. 


	18. 16 Days, 23 hours, 20 minutes, 15 seconds

The systems had shut down the moment that Tony had commanded them to. By the time that they had finished eating the rest of the corpses in the room, they were able to make their way to the door. Tony scratched at the metal plates trying to open them. He knew that scratching would do no good, but when he tried to grab the handle like he normally would he found he was unable to – it was as though his brain wasn’t connecting with his body. He continued to rake his fingernails across the surface doing more damage to his once perfectly manicured nails than to the door itself.

Internally his thought process was wondering why this door wasn’t opening at all. At some level, he realized parts of his brain had shut down, certain segments misfired wildly. He could still think, he could still feel a knot in his chest whenever he looked up at the blood drenched muscular man that dragged his feet over next to him. He wondered if Steve could feel the same, thinking to himself that he probably could.

Steve grunted at him and Tony met his eyes. With a considerable amount of care, Steve pushed Tony to one side and then grabbed the edge of the door and tugged the thick steel once, then again. Tony heard the cracks in Steve’s shoulders when he used force, spotting his elbow bones poke out of the skin whenever he bent his arms, but finally with a mighty heave the door finally opened. A beam of light escaped the crack that Steve had managed to pry open from the hallway, penetrating the darkness of the depowered lab.

Steve made a low pitched growl, but instantly moved to shade Tony’s eyes with his forearm.

He was still protecting him. Even when Steve was dead, he was still protecting Tony.

Tony’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the light, his pupils slowly constricting. The Captain staggered first through the gap and out into the hallway, dragging his feet with every step against the grain of the carpet. Meekly, Tony followed. He crawled out, as he found hard to walk with the heavy armour still locked on his legs after their escape from quarantine. Each step was harder to make than the last as they stepped along the exquisite red carpet that Tony had picked out himself to decorate the hallways. His hands scraped over the Victorian patterned wallpaper until his fingertips met the frame of an ornate golden mirror he had set up in the hallway for his pass-by hair checks. He remembered setting it up and mounting it…having to call Steve to help him do so. It was one of the few things that had survived the mansion’s first destruction, to his surprise, an antique mirror was salvaged from the rubble of the old mansion and placed in the new one as a reminder of what still stood from the past. He stood in front of it and stared at his new appearance – his eyes were the same tint as Steve’s were now, his bottom lip was missing. From there, trails of black and red liquid dripped off his chin and threaded through his beard, and strings of blood and ooze dripping from the rough edges of his untamed beard to the ground and down his neck. His skin was pale and grey, visible veins filled with black along segments of his face. He looked lifeless, he looked sick and decrepit. Steve noticed how the man was lagging behind and turned on his foot, making his way back to Tony’s side and grabbed his arm with his bony, cold fingers.

Tony’s eyes remained focused on his image and he groaned, gargling up some fluid while his other hand touched his visible lower teeth, now exposed due to a lack of lip – the million dollar smile that was now probably worth less than a cent. Then he caught sight of Steve in the mirror standing next to him, holding on to him protectively, wanting to keep him by his side. There was that stare that seemed almost human, the small movements, and the subtle twitches in Steve’s face that reminded Tony that he was still the man he loved. They still looked perfect next to one another even in the state that they were in, at least in Tony’s eyes anyway.

Tony obeyed to the tug on his arm and began to follow Steve out down the hallway, trying to sniff out fresh meat.

They could smell arrays of fragrances coming their way and knew that they were close to getting food again, hunting together.

The alarms in the house began to sound and both Tony and Steve turned their heads in tandem toward the speaker, Steve hobbling toward it with Tony clutching Steve’s arm at the time as he reached for the speaker, or tried to, realising it was too high up.

Tony snapped his teeth at it wishing the ringing in his ears would cease, instead raising his hand and charging up the unibeam from the centre of his chest – he still had the entire plate on. Aiming it close he fired it and not only broke the speaker, but blast a hole in the wall. However the impact was so strong and he was so frail on his feet that he fell back from the recoil of the blast. Steve crawled up beside him making a distressed groan, Tony replied with the same haggard facial expression remaining on his face, laying there for a moment.

Then they heard a sound.

“Avengers, we need to get to the jet!”

“We never get a break…” Clint sighed as he followed Jan’s voice.

“Well, _you_ should tell the Serpent Society that they need to stop, maybe they’ll politely oblige.”  Jan joked.

“Yeah sure, sure, _I’m_ the convincing one, I’m sure. Wait, do you smell that?”  Clint stopped in the hallway, turning his head. “We need to see where that explosion came from.”

“It’s close to Tony’s lab, I assume it’s him or Reed, they all went down there…”

“Let the boys play, we have more important things to do.” Maria summoned them as she effortlessly strode forward ahead of them, past the junction in the hallway. Just round the left hand side Steve and Tony were on the floor.

“Yeah, like take the same bad guys down for the _billionth_ time.” An extremely unenthusiastic Clint rolled his eyes…then turning his head back to the left. Concern touched his voice. “That smells _vile_ though, its like smoke and something else; whatever it is, it’s gross.”

“Clint, come on…” Anya pleaded from behind, pushing Clint’s back to try to get him to follow Maria.

“What’s Stark cooking down there? Smells like he’s boiling up road-kill.” Clint groaned.

“We get that you’re hungry, but we need to take these guys down, come on!” Anya pushed Clint closer to the junction, then stood in front of him, tugging on his shirt to lead him away from the two walking dead in the hallway, unbeknownst to her.

Steve was about to make a noise and charge after them when Tony grabbed his arm and used to him to stand up, hearing the doors slam. Steve crawled up and began to run after the sound and smell, scratching at the door and snapping his teeth at it, ready to tear it open when he was distracted by another sound up the stairs.

He could hear voices and shuffling and made his way up, though finding the marbled staircase a task in itself. He pulled himself up step after step, unable to walk up the spiral, ending up on his fours and climbing with Tony following close by.  When they had finally made their way up the stairs they spotted the door was open, someone had just rushed out. Steve ran out eagerly and snarled when the sun hit his skin but carried on walking to the gate of the mansion. It had been his first breath of fresh air in days.


	19. 17 Days, 2 hours, 2 minutes, 2 seconds

The door was left open earlier by Johnny when he had left. Steve had only noticed when he tilted his head up to bask in the glory of the sun and noticed the trail of fire, although to him by this point he didn’t know what that was. His memories were little more blurry hazes at best. He had a selective thought process, as did Tony; he only wanted to eat at the moment. The sun that he had once craved was already drying his skin, the searing rays and the sparse water remaining in Steve’s system meant that the sun was _actually_ burning him. The damage to his nerves meant that he felt no pain, even though his skin would shrink and recede the more that the sun hit him.

Having the mansion in the centre of New York City meant that they could have anything they wanted in the past. Now, the city was a buffet for them. Steve’s fingers wrapped around the golden bars of the gate, pulling it and bending it, again his shoulder popped and Tony made a groan of concern when he heard the noise. Nonetheless, Steve carried on pulling and rattling the stubborn gate. Tony had enforced the gate with titanium and had done so after the mansion had come under attack repeatedly. Steve leaned forward and started to gnaw at the metal poles only to be struck by the echo of the chomp and the vibration of the bar as it surged up his head, making him dizzy and sending him back.

It was Tony’s turn to tackle the bars. He stepped up to them and powered up the beam in his chest again but made a whimper of hesitation when he remembered how terrible the force of recoil was and how far it sent him back in the building. Although he couldn’t feel the pain to its full extent, he didn’t like how it had shaken him. Tony’s brain still had memories, it still had certain thoughts and had the feeling of hesitation that Steve had seemingly lost and thus restraint held him back.

They watched people pass by, snarling and trying to reach through the fence only for the tourists to take photographs of them.

“Stark’s put these out a little early for Halloween, it’s only July…”

“You know the guys an eccentric.”

Tony snapped his teeth at the rude comments the tourists made, reaching out to try and scratch them.

“You have to give him credit, he makes great robots. This looks way more life-like than his suits do.”

“Yeah without the garish colour schemes too.”

“Wait, I said great robots – asides from that psychotic one.”

“He’s made more than just one crazy one, I heard a rumour that once he made a robot that was in love with him.”

“Hah, no kidding. But these really smell gross, he’s pretty accurate.”

“Yeah, and he’s nuts too.”

The more they talked the more Tony was growling and trying to desperately squeeze through the gap in the bars to try and claw their faces off. He would’ve just loved to see them on the ground, those smug expressions wiped off their faces. Their words had very little meaning to him but he still could sense that they were aimed at him, targeting him, victimising him as many had done before.

Rage was taking over and boiled in his chest.

They laughed and walked by unfazed, leaving the two to get out themselves, while Steve took a couple of steps back and began trying to ram his shoulder into the bars, cracking and bending his once broad shoulder but carrying on, throwing himself mindlessly against the gates until the bars did bend. Tony then scrambled to the mauled poll and began to pull at it until it bent even more.  Tony crawled out first; always finding it easier to crawl out of smaller spaces, Steve on the other hand had a little more problem with his broad stature but managed to tug his way past. Now that they were out in the open the injuries Steve had were far more visible; tears on his skin and casual gear, blasts from retaliation strikes from his kills. Tony didn’t nearly look as bad but Steve was starting to show much more wear and tear.

A civilian walked by and without even stopping to think about it, Steve grabbed the young man and began chomping away. There were loud screams from nearby and Tony ran to join Steve, helping him tear open the bowls of the person that they had taken down.

Did Tony feel bad for doing so? For hurting his friends?

Partially the vague memories did haunt him but now it was all becoming distorted; all he wanted to do was survive and keep up his strength and most of all stay by Steve’s side.  Perhaps him being turned was a blessing, means of staying by the side of the man he loved for much longer.

Tony pulled at the flesh that he had between his teeth and stared up at Steve, the tendrils of blood dripping from his mouth as he feasted upon the poor innocent soul that they were ripping apart. The taste returned to him, that sensation and buzz he felt from the kill, and reached for the part he craved the most; the heart. Before he managed to get there Steve punched his hands through the ribs and yanked out the heart as he’d done before, taking a bite into it himself. Tony let a guttural growl escape the back of his throat and pushed himself closer, biting into the exposed side of the heart while Steve ate too. They both shared the heart together, eating with such joy.

Steve could feel something skim past his face, ripping the skin in a sharp line. Something distracted him from his meal, and if there was one thing that Tony had learned from Steve even when he was human it was never to disturb him during a meal. He turned his head in the direction of the gunfire to see a cop, standing with his gun pointed at the two. Tony shrugged and continued to eat whilst the gun was pointed at his back. The cop trembled; he wiped the sweat from under his cap and took a couple of unsure steps forward, unable to truly comprehend what was happening in front of his eyes. No matter the amount of zombie shows that people watched, nothing would truly prepare them for the real deal.

The man fired the gun and hit the ground, his vision shaky from how scared he was of the two beasts that literally tore the civilian apart.  The gunshot made Steve take a few steps to the man that was targeting Tony, he snapped his teeth at the cop that fired again at Tony, this time Steve managed to intercept the bullet. It tore through his chest and failed to even phase the shadow of a man that was left standing, taking the opportunity of shock that flustered the cop to jump him, biting into his neck and hearing a blood curdling scream escape before he ripped further and further into him with his bare teeth.

Tony crawled to the new carcass that Steve was working on, dragging his armoured legs along with him and joining him.

Blood tasted better than the finest of wine.

Organs tasted juicy like fruit freshly plucked from a tree.

Eating with no other care in the world was bliss.


	20. 17 Days, 4 hours, 12 minutes, 19 seconds

They had managed to down six or so passers and around three cops. Steve could hear the sirens in the distance, as did Tony. Tony still had the sense to try and get Steve somewhere safe, although his need for self-preservation was vast fading he still had a little bit left of his survival instincts. He had managed to cover some ground with Steve, tugging him into the safety of a park and walking down a path with them. Those nearby knew from the screams that something terrible was coming and had evacuated the small surrounding area, including that of the park nearby, after all the events that the people of New York had gone through they had learned that when they heard screams they needed to hide – Skrull invasions, killer robots, alien attacks, incursions.

Tony staggered around aimlessly, sniffing out something and following the fresh scent that wafted his way. Steve followed, hunching as he walked, the broken shoulder he had from the gate smash drooping to one side.

The smell had led them to a woodland area of the park, a mini forest with a tiny man-made pond. Tony stepped through the water, reaching a tiny man-made creak to spot a little girl clutching a doll with Steve craning his neck to spot her too. She was whimpering, crying as she held the toy bunny in front of her face. Eventually she peered over the top of the doll and began to shake more at the sight of the two. Steve tilted his head at her, feeling a sinking feeling swirl within him, with that he turned and dragged Tony away.

Instead the nose of snapping twigs caught him, following the sound. Crunching leaves, heavy breaths, someone was running and both Steve and Tony bolted after the noise hoping for a new kill.

Steve made a loud sound and ran ahead of his partner, grabbing Tony’s hand to pull him to follow. He could see darting shadows, getting as close as he could to them, distracted by each movement. There was something and whatever it was moved very quickly.

The sounds stopped, leaving Steve and Tony in the middle of the woodland area, surrounded by treats and chirping birds. Dazed and confused they both looked around them, trying to sniff to catch that scent again.

Steve pushed his back up against Tony, narrowing his eyes, squinting to try and see where his prey had hidden then suddenly—

**_BANG_ **

Steve toppled to the side and fell to the ground in a heap.

Tony swung his body around and stared wide eyed at his fallen angel, crouching and watching the black blood stain Steve’s wonderfully golden hair. Those wide lifeless eyes staring back at him, glassy and empty.

The gunshot echoed, making the birds flutter around with alarm. Tony growled and pawed at Steve, as though telling him to get up. He let out a shrill screech and turned, powering up the unibeam in his chest again, distraught. The sound began to get louder while he charged up, trying to figure out how he had managed to shoot it in the first place, the memory escaping him entirely. He was like a child with a toy that he didn’t know how to use, an angry child that just wanted his toy to work.

At that moment, he saw it. He saw a man in glorious red and gold armour step out and fire a blast from his palm at Tony, knocking him flat on his back to the ground. Tony roared and tried to get back up, clawing at the leaves around him before a man in stunning red white and blue stepped up to him, standing over him, staring with wonderfully azure eyes as he held a strange looking gun to his forehead.

Tony snapped his teeth before he fired, head falling to one side, body shaking for one last moment before falling still.

…

The man in the blue armour took off his futuristic looking helmet, shaking out his blond hair.

“Damn, Steve, killing me like that.” The man in the red and gold armour chuckled, folding back his golden faceplate to reveal dark sapphire blue eyes and a well-trimmed goatee.

“Tony, you _know_ this isn’t you.” Steve replied, folding back a glowing blue visor he had, dusting off his own chest plate with a huge star on the front. “These are alternate versions of us. Though it still hurts me that I had to do this…” He sucked in a long breath. “Killing you in any dimension isn’t exactly desirable, Shellhead.”

“We were sent here to hunt these two down, because inevitably they kill their dimension, the virus adapts to normal blood streams and they turn – and end up turning other alien races that are here too…” The dark haired man frowned and scratched the back of his head, stepping closer to the blue armoured hero and staring at the two.

“Then they breach our universe…” A disgusted sigh. “Oh, I _hate_ this continuum hoo-hah. It’s a damned mess…”

“I know, but we’re fixing it, we’re fixing the dimensions that need fixing. That’s our job right? Not only Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, but Inter-Dimensional Heroes too? We saved this Earth, now it’s on to the next.”

“Wait, Tony, hold on… I just noticed something.” The alternate armoured version of Steve stepped back.

“What is it?”

“Were we spotted? You know, if we _were_ spotted, we’d have to abort the mission and ask Strange to wipe their minds for us…” Steve held a hand to his chin for a moment. “We’re not exactly _from_ here, and we don’t want to mess up the timeline even more than we already are. Things can go terribly wrong--”

“Hey, could you look a little closer?” Tony gestured to the bodies.

“What is it, Tony?”

“They’re…holding hands.”

When the dark haired man in the armour stared down at the two he noticed it, a gentle smile on Tony’s face as he held his fallen partners hand, fingers interlaced, laying side by side facing one another.

The man in the blue armour stared, a tiny smile over his own lips. “At least they went out together…”

“Together.” The alternate reality Tony said, grabbing Steve’s hand and tip toeing just a bit to peck his cheek. “Come on, beloved, we have other dimensions to save. Let these two rest together.”

Steve let out a chuckle. “Come on, I’ll ask Reed to open the next portal for us.” He wrapped his arm around the armoured man’s waist and walked on, stepping through a giant square portal of blue light that formed just in front of them.

“If I _were_ to die, I’d be honoured to die by your side. But no matter where we go, or what happens to us, I’ll find you in every reality, and I will love you in each the same. I’ll be with you forever Tony Stark.”

“And I with you, Steve Rogers.”


End file.
